The Selkie Wife: A New World
by Lissa Bryan
Summary: Sequel to THE SELKIE WIFE "I will find you again, my love." As one life ends, another begins. True love never dies. For twenty years, Bella has searched for Edward. She finally discovers him again, in the New Plymouth Colony. Will Edward's soul remember hers? Will he fall in love with his selkie wife again as they build another life together in this new world? Rated M/OOC
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This story is dedicated to the memory of Megan, the friend I lost to cancer at age fourteen.

I went last night and visited the profile of CyraBear and was happy to see her stories are still bringing joy to readers. I paused for a moment to re-read her moving Tumblr message in which she said goodbye to the fandom, and hoped she got her wish to be reborn as a muse. From there, I went on to visit the Facebook page of Katalina Roseph, and found people still stop by regularly to share tributes and memories. Two fandom members lost to cancer, but not forgotten.

Just as my friend Megan lives in my memory. She would have been in her late thirties now, but she'll always be fourteen, still dreaming of her first kiss, a poster of the New Kids on the Block on her wall and a Janet Jackson cassette tape in her Walkman. When she was too sick for visitors, we used to sing "Opposites Attract" to each other over the phone. She had a crush on a boy named Jason. I don't think he ever knew.

I wrote this story for the 2012 Fandom4LLS fundraiser. Since that time, we've lost some special friends, and someone near and dear to me has been diagnosed with cancer. When Megan died, I imagined that by this time, we'd have a cure. We've had amazing advancements, but too many people are still taken from us by this terrible disease. If you enjoy this story, and if you can, please donate to the cancer charity of your choice. And maybe light a candle in memory of the lights extinguished too soon.

* * *

**Chapter One**

_~.~_

_May 3, 1603_

Edward, Duke of Cullen, was dying.

He lay in his huge bed of estate in a room that was made dim by the tapestries hung over the windows, smoky from the incense burned to cover the sick-room smells, and stiflingly hot from the blaze in the large fireplace. The heavy air was laden with soft sobs, and the murmured prayers of the priests that stood at the foot of the bed.

Around the Duke's bed, his family sat vigil. His daughters Elizabeth and Mary pressed their handkerchiefs to their lips to muffle their weeping, and his son, Ward, stared sightlessly at the flames. Ward would be the new duke when his father passed, but the knowledge brought him no joy. Ward's wife, Anne, stood behind him. She was a sweet, timid girl who had never felt entirely comfortable in her husband's blue-blooded family, but she, too, mourned the man whose life was passing.

Beside Mary was her husband, Henry, a yeoman farmer. They had a little timbered house with a thatched roof on the edges of the duke's estate, and half a dozen children- all of whom, miraculously, had lived to adulthood. Born to wear velvet and cloth-of-gold, Mary donned simple wool gowns as she tended the farm, and her eyes shone with a happiness that sparkled brighter than any jewel she could have worn.

Elizabeth sat alone; like her namesake, she had chosen not to marry and lived the quiet, intellectual life of a scholar, far away from the court where Lady Elizabeth, as the duke's eldest daughter, should have swept the halls in bejeweled gowns, whispering of intrigue in the shadows. But that hadn't been what the duke wanted for his children.

All of them had been raised according to the duke and duchess's odd parenting practices, and it was thought by most of the neighboring nobility that it was due to sheer fortune alone the children had not turned out debauched. Perhaps the first indication something was amiss had been the duchess's dangerous decision not to bundle the babies she bore the duke, and then it was rumored the duke had dismissed his young son's tutor simply because the tutor struck the boy when he failed at a lesson. _He who spareth the rod hateth his son,_ they repeated to the duke, but he merely smiled and said his children did not need stern discipline to prosper. But, then, look at how it had turned out: all of his children deciding their own marriages, marrying for_ love_, the silliest reason of all to form a union, or not at all in Lady Elizabeth's case. Mary had polluted her royal blood with that of a commoner, and Ward, the duke's heir, had married a simple gentlewoman. Privately, many of the great families vowed never to intermarry with the Cullens again.

Bella, Duchess of Cullen, lay on the bed beside her dying husband, despite the looks the scandalized priest had given her. Her head was pillowed on his shoulder and she listened to the unsteady thump of his heart as constant tears oozed down her cheeks. She wasn't ready to lose him. She would never be ready. Even knowing it was part of the cycle she had chosen, she still wasn't ready.

There should have been another family member in this room, Edward's closest friend: Elizabeth, Queen of England. But Bess herself had died last month and the grief had probably contributed to the decline of her cousin, who now lay in this bed, struggling to breathe.

Bella had seen Edward pale when he read the first lines of Lord Burghley's letter, and he sank down into his chair, wordlessly holding it out for Bella. It was news that wasn't entirely unexpected, for Bess had not been doing well since Essex's execution two years earlier. He had been a favorite of hers. She'd been suffering spells of melancholy since, hadn't been eating or sleeping well, and spent hours sobbing in darkened rooms. It brought back terrible memories of the misery of her sister, Mary.

But Bess wasn't just mourning for Essex. She was mourning for the relentless passage of time, for regrets and lost chances, for the bitterness of mortality. Essex had been her last flirtation, a young, handsome man more than forty years her junior. It allowed her to pretend, just for a while, she was still the vibrant princess who had come to the throne at the peak of her beauty, that the image of the ageless Gloriana she had so carefully cultivated was a reality. Essex's cruel comments about her appearance had wounded her deeply, forced her to accept the reality of age. She had made her choice to never marry and had contented herself with "courtly love," but part of her would always regret she'd never a husband, and a child of her own to rule after she was gone.

So many losses in such a short time … Her beloved Cecil, Lord Burghley, her brilliant advisor and friend, gone for nearly five years now. Cecil's son, Robert, had been groomed from an early age to take over for his father, but it wasn't the same. Nothing ever would be.

Her dear friend Blanche Perry, who had taken over as first lady of the bedchamber after Kat Ashley died, was now gone, too. With cruel inexorability, Death picked off her friends and family one by one. Familiar faces faded away, replaced by a new generation of courtiers, and Bess herself began to believe she was an unwanted artifact of a bygone era. The age of the Tudors was drawing to a close, and her court was impatient for the dawn of a new rule. Her letters to Edward took on a wistful tone and she, who had always been impatient with nostalgia, took comfort in it. Edward was one of the last people who shared her memories, who remembered those dark and dangerous days under her sister's rule.

Edward had consistently refused a position on Bess's council or any other appointment at court, despite Bess's attempts to cajole, entice, or even bully him into it. She was not the only one who had wished Edward would take the position. He was the only person who would argue with her, or shout back at her when she flew into a temper. But Edward was done with court. He'd had more than enough of the intrigue and infighting during Mary's day. However, in every crisis of Bess's life, he was at her side. During the attempted invasion by the Spanish Armada, he had been her constant companion, his hand on his sword, ready to defend her with his life, if need be, and it had been Edward who had ordered her chamber door broken open by the guards when she locked herself inside, alone, after Robert Dudley's death.

Bella closed her eyes as Edward gasped and struggled. He was still fighting, just as Elizabeth had fought. The Tudors did not surrender to Death's cold embrace easily. She smoothed back the thin, silver hair from Edward's forehead and murmured to him. As always, her voice soothed him, and he fell into a light doze.

At the beginning of March, Bess complained of a sore throat, but refused to allow her doctors to examine her, though she worsened every day. When the letter from Burghley arrived, Edward and Bella went to Richmond, the Queen's favorite residence, the palace she had always referred to as her "warm box for my old age." Upon arrival, they had learned that Bess had dismissed her young ladies in waiting. She wanted only her old friends around her now.

Bess felt Death's specter lurking in the nearby shadows and she refused to lie down for fear she would never rise again. Her servants begged her to rest but she ignored their pleas, standing stock-still in the center of her chamber for hours on end. Bella talked her into sitting in a chair occasionally, but she would soon rise again, as if even that small concession to mortality was too much for her to bear.

Lord Burghley had come into her chamber when summoned by her anxious ladies. "Your majesty, you must lie down."

Bess had given him her haughtiest look, the one which could still strike fear into the hearts of politicians and royalty alike: "The word _must_ is not to be used to princes, little man. You know I must die, and that makes you so presumptuous." It was one of the last things she ever said, though, by the time she passed, no one remembered her last words. She had been silenced for days before the end finally came.

Her ladies spread cushions on the floor around her, lest she collapse and injure herself, and eventually, Bess sank down to them. There she lay, silent, refusing any assistance, even to remove the gown she wore. Because she would not or could not speak, Bella and Edward spoke for her. They reminisced for the Queen, reciting every memory that they had of their time together. Some made Bess smile, while others brought tears to her eyes and she squeezed their hands in encouragement when they might have faltered for fear of upsetting her.

Four days later, Edward scooped Bess up into his arms and carried the Queen to her bed; Bess no longer had the strength to protest.

It was there that the Queen finally named her successor. She'd known from personal experience that being an heir to the throne was fraught with danger and temptations, and so had always refused to name someone to inherit her crown. She almost left it too late. She could no longer speak when Edward posed the question to her. It was treason to "imagine" the death of the monarch, even when that monarch was visibly dying by inches. Edward was the only one of the Queen's ministers brave enough to admit the truth and ask her. She tried to say a name, but was unable.

"James?" Edward asked. He was son of her cousin, Mary, Queen of Scots, whom Elizabeth had executed years before. Though it wasn't openly discussed, he was the one everyone thought most likely to take the crown. He had the strongest claim, for his grandmother had been Henry VIII's sister.

Elizabeth raised her hands to her head and made the shape of a crown. Edward caught one of them in his own and pressed a kiss to it. He leaned down to whisper something into Bess's ear, something that made both of their eyes shine with tears. Elizabeth smiled at him, faintly. And then, as one witness would later write in his diary: _This morning, about three o'clock her Majesty departed from this life, mildly like a lamb, easily like a ripe apple from a tree …_ She died on a Thursday, just as her father and sister before her. And she died on the eve of the feast of the Virgin's Annunciation, perhaps a fitting day for the death of the Virgin Queen.

Lady Scrope, one of the Queen's ladies, slipped a ring from Bess's finger before she gently laid her hand on the Queen's still chest. It would be sent to James to prove the queen was dead and he was now the King of England, just as Mary's wedding ring had been brought to Bess that day at Hatfield, so long ago, where she had been reading quietly beneath an oak tree. Her heart had pounded at the approach of the riders on horseback, she had confessed to Bella years later, fearing her ailing sister had ordered her arrested and sent to the Tower again, perhaps this time, never to emerge.

It was a pearl and ruby ring with the Queen's initials outlined in gems, known to be one of the Queen's favorite pieces, one that never left her finger. Lady Scrope rubbed it on her handkerchief and a bit of metal caught in the lace. As she tried to free it, the hidden clasp popped open. Inside were two miniature portraits: one of Bess and one of her mother, Anne Boleyn.

Bella acted as chief mourner during the funeral rites. She walked behind the riderless horse that followed the hearse, upon which the purple-draped casket lay. The life-size effigy on top, dressed in one of Elizabeth's gowns, was so realistic that it rent the hearts of those who had loved her. Thousands lined the streets, weeping for Bess. Even the excitement which usually accompanied a change in rulers was tempered with sorrow. England had lost its Gloriana, and it came as a shock to many. Elizabeth had seemed ageless, eternal, and after forty-five years on the throne, many had never known an England without her.

The new king, James, respected her memory or at least the attachment that the English people had to it, and gave her a lavish funeral fit for the magnificent Queen she had been. Later, he had a white marble tomb built for her, a courtesy Elizabeth had never extended to her own father or sister. The sisters were buried together, Elizabeth's coffin placed on top of Mary's, beneath a carved effigy of Elizabeth. The inscription praised her accomplishments. She had brought England back to prosperity, made the little island nation a world power, "_Elizabeth, a most prudent governor 45 years, a victorious and triumphant Queen, most strictly religious, most happy, by a calm and resigned death at her 70th year left her mortal remains, till by Christ's Word they shall rise to immortality…"_

Edward had mourned the Queen deeply. He fell ill only a few days after the Queen's funeral, and at his greatly advanced age of seventy-seven years, he knew he would not recover. He asked Bella to summon their children so that he could see them one last time, but by the time they arrived, he was no longer lucid enough to speak with them.

Edward choked and a rattle grew in his throat. Bella sat up in alarm and called his name in a voice that trembled and broke. The priest's prayers became louder and Mary cried out, clutching at her father's cool, limp hand.

Edward opened his eyes one last time and saw Bella's face above him. Her huge, dark eyes swam with tears, but she smiled at him. She leaned down to whisper in his ear. "I will find you again, my love." It was a vow, and a soft draft of wind swirled through the room, unnoticed by the others, which sealed her promise with the magic of her kind.

His lips formed her name and she kissed him softly. A small puff of air came from him as she pulled back. And then he was gone.

Elizabeth gave a hoarse sob and buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook. Anne embraced her with soft, soothing sounds.

"Your grace," the Duke's steward knelt before the new Duke and Duchess. Ward turned to his mother, and the bewildered, lost look on his face broke Bella's heart. Somehow, they must all go on without Edward, though how, she did not know.

* * *

~.~

Edward's funeral was held in the chapel of Cullen Hall, all that remained of the once-magnificent manor house. The marble tombs of Edward's family and ancestors lined the walls. Emmett was buried next to the ashes of his wife, Rosalie (though there were those who still objected to a woman who had been burned as a witch being interred in sacred ground.) Bella still wished that their daughter, Margaret, had been laid to rest with them after her death in childbirth, but Margaret's husband had insisted on burying her with his own family.

Alice and Jasper lay buried below the church floor, in front of the altar. A carved marble slab marked their tomb, and that of their children, none of whom still survived. It was a modest resting place, appropriate for the charitable and humble churchman Jasper had been, but in a place of honor, as they had been honored in the hearts of Bella and Edward.

Edward's tomb was on the opposite wall from his parents. He'd started building it nearly twenty years ago, when he reached his old age. A carved marble effigy of Edward and Bella lay on the top, though Bella would never rest there. Their hands were templed piously in prayer, but their heads were turned toward one another, sharing a loving gaze instead of staring sightlessly at the ceiling like the other effigies in the tomb.

Edward's body was embalmed and lay in state for the customary three weeks before wrapped in lead and being placed in a fine mahogany casket. The funeral procession wound through the little village to the chapel, and the villagers lined the roads to pay their respects. Nobles from all around southern England arrived to attend, overflowing the small inns and setting up tents all around the village itself. Two hundred nobles marched in the procession itself, followed by seventy-eight poor men, one for every year of Edward's life, all of them dressed in new black clothing, traditionally provided by the deceased's family.

As was customary, Bella did not attend the funeral service. Anne, the new Duchess, acted as chief mourner. Bella spent the day settling accounts and preparing the duchy for a smooth transition into her son's hands. Ward would make an excellent duke. Both intelligent and compassionate, and he would have the counsel of his brilliant sister, and the gentle heart of his wife to guide him. Bella had no qualms about leaving the estate in their capable hands. Ward would take care of his sisters, tend the charities and schools that his mother had founded, and continue their legacy. It was all she could ask for.

She was impatient to leave. Her heart ached to wake alone in her bed, to walk the halls without the sound of Edward's footsteps beside her. Her heart was sore and heavy with sorrow. She knew she would find Edward again, but the time that she would have to wait seemed interminable and intolerable here on land, with all of its confining etiquette and strictures.

"Mother?"

Bella looked up and saw Ward standing in the doorway. "Is the funeral over?" she asked.

He nodded and dashed a tear from his cheek.

"Walk with me," she coaxed. She picked up a small lockbox, and took his arm and led him from the house. They followed the narrow path that meandered down from the house to the beach below.

"You're leaving, aren't you?" Ward asked.

"I can't stay here, my son. Not without your father."

Ward looked out over the slate-gray waves. "Will you return?" Bella had convinced Edward that they needed to tell the children what she was as they neared the end of Edward's life and now she was glad they had.

"Of course," she told him. She took a key from her chatelaine and unlocked the box. Inside was a dark brown seal pelt, shiny and supple. She hadn't touched it in over forty years, not since she had given it to Edward. Tears sprang to her eyes as she lifted it out and felt its familiar warm, heavy weight in her hands.

"Pray, do not stay away for long," Ward said. "Father told me how your kind loses track of time easily. I should hate it if I was too old and dotty to recognize you when you finally returned."

She smiled at him, even as the tears coursed over her softly wrinkled cheeks. "Tell your sisters that I love them. I – I could not bear to say farewell to them in person. They would have begged me to stay and it would have broken my heart to refuse them."

"Go with God, mother," Ward said. He kissed both of her cheeks and then gave her a hard hug. He turned and walked quickly up the path toward the Dower House.

Bella watched him go until he disappeared. She wiped away the last of her tears and then began to strip as she walked toward the water, dropping the garments on the sand behind her. And as her clothes fell away, so did the signs of age. Her skin smoothed and became rosy. The silver faded from her hair and it thickened to a dark brown spill that reached the small of her back. It was all she wore as she reached the water line and slipped into her pelt, feeling the warm magic of her kind transform her body. She glanced back toward her life as the Duchess of Cullen one last time and then slipped into the waves.

* * *

**Notes**:

**1** Robert Deveraux, Earl of Essex was the stepson of Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester. (In _The Selkie Wife,_ Dudley was the man who sent the poem to Bess in the Tower.) He was assigned to put down a rebellion in Ireland and entered into an unauthorized treaty with the rebel leader. Hearing that the Queen was furious, he abandoned his army and rushed back to London. He barged into the Queen's chambers before she was dressed one morning, which embarrassed and angered the Queen and afterward, he said some cruel things about her appearance. He was stripped of his income and placed under house arrest. He gathered forces and marched on London, intending to use force to make the Queen give him an audience, but the people of London did not rise up to support him and he was quickly captured. Some say it broke Bess's heart to sign his death warrant, but she had no choice.

**2** There are two versions of this story. One version gives the ring as being the portrait ring, known as the Chequers ring after the house where it is stored. The other story is far sadder. Supposedly, Elizabeth had once given Essex a ring with the promise that if he ever returned it to her, she would grant him any request. The story goes that Essex dropped the ring out of a window in the Tower to a little boy and told him to take it to one of the Queen's ladies. The boy delivered it to the wrong woman, one of Essex's enemies, who hid the ring instead of giving it to the Queen. On her deathbed, long after his execution, the woman confessed to the Queen what she had done. Elizabeth supposedly wore the ring for the rest of her life and it was this ring that was taken to James to prove that the Queen was dead. It was later returned to the Essex family, where it remained until it was sold in 1911 for the then-massive sum of £17,000. Its current whereabouts are unknown.

**3** Bess never made a public statement about her mother. If she had defended her mother's honor, it would have been seen as disrespectful to her father, and if she had agreed with his condemnation of her, Bess's legitimacy would have been in question. She really had no choice but to remain silent, but the ring with her mother's portrait speaks volumes. She also chose, when she was younger, to have her portrait painted wearing her mother's initial "A" pendant in the Whitehall Family Group, and, possibly, the re-made version of her mother's famous "B" necklace at age fourteen.

**4** There is an effigy of Bess in Westminster Abbey. Unfortunately, the effigy made in her time fell apart a century after her death, and the one in Westminster is a copy made in 1760. Supposedly, great care was taken in making it look the same as the original. The original face may have been molded from a death mask, in which grease was smeared over the face of the body and a cast made of the features. It's thought by some scholars that the new face was modeled from the one on her tomb's marble effigy. During conservation of the clothing in 2005, the effigy was found to be wearing a corset, dated to 1603. Whether or not the corset belonged to Bess or the original effigy is a matter of debate. (In early 1700s, a visitor to the Abbey said that Bess's effigy was wearing only a dirty ruff.) It's awfully plain for a Queen's garment though that doesn't automatically disqualify it. If it was hers, Bess was very slender, with a long torso.

**5** There are seventy-eight poor men because the Tudors reckoned every year of life from the start of the year, not based on the person's birthday.


	2. Journey

Chapter Two

~.~

The Endless Waters were cool and dark, a balm to her aching heart.

A decade had passed. Maybe two. She wasn't really sure any longer.

She haunted the coasts of England, waiting for that small tug on her heart that would tell her he was near, but though she roamed inland for days and sometimes weeks at a time, crisscrossing the land in endless loops, she never felt it. Again and again, circling the Isle, until her aching heart weighed so heavily, it was hard to move.

Despair was dangerous for her kind. Its drugging pull into the dark ... so sweetly tempting at times. It would be so easy to let herself Fade. One small step forward and then a long, soft fall into oblivion. Into a sleep from which she would not wake until her soul was reborn. But what would that avail her? She would still be haunted by these memories, even in the Afterworld, still feel this restless, relentless ache to be reunited with her love. And it would only be worse for the delay.

What if she did not find him in this lifetime? That terror haunted her dreams. Or what if he had been given to another by the time she found him? Humans married off their children young, and no matter how deeply she loved him, she could not ask him to break his vow to another in order to be with her. In sooth, it would be best if she never revealed herself to him, if she found him already wed to another. He would always feel the restless ache in his heart that something was missing, but he would not have his memories re-awakened unless she revealed herself to him, and would not have to know the agony of their separation. She would have to bear it alone, hoping his next lifetime would allow them to be reunited.

Outside of her dreams, which she could not control, Bella could not bear to think about the possibility. Her nightmares woke her screaming some nights. And then she would weep helplessly until she fell asleep again, the tears drying on her cheeks.

She would find him. She must find him. Surely, the gods would not be so cruel ...

In between her searches, she visited with her own kind, but there was no happiness to be found there, either. Since her lengthy time on land, and becoming soul-bound to a human man, Bella was no longer like her selkie friends and relatives, who spent their carefree days in play and pleasure. They were loving and consoling of her heartbreak, but they didn't know what to do for her, except for try to coax her into the games she was no longer interested in playing. She didn't want to take a lover or dance with the other girls in the surf. She found herself at the fringes, a sorrowing shadow, and she knew she was discomfiting them.

And so she swam away, into the deep, lonely waters where her only companions were the odd fish that lived at the depths where the sunlight didn't reach. And there she stayed, until the longing drove her back to shore to search again. There she roamed, endlessly searching for any sign he was near, until the frustration and the noise drove her back to the quiet depths of the sea ... an endless dreary cycle.

Tonight, she had stopped at a tavern in Nottinghamshire. She wanted to sleep in a bed again, she had decided. For a moment, upon waking, she might think he was beside her. It would be painful once she realized it wasn't true, reaching out her fingers to touch the cold sheets beside her, but that fuzzy, soft moment before coming to the realization would be worth it.

"I got a letter from your cousin who's with the Brownists in Leyden," she overheard. The man was seated at a table in the tap room, surrounded by a group of younger men. From the resemblance, Bella supposed they were his sons. All were dressed in homespun wool and they ate their bowls of stew like they hadn't been fed in weeks. Working men, hungry after a long day in the fields.

"They thought Archbishop Tobias Matthew would give them more freedom to worship as they pleased," one of the younger men said around a mouthful of bread. "He has always seemed sympathetic to the Brownists."

"Bah, fools they are," the older man said. "I said to your cousin, Thomas, '_Just attend church as the law requires. 'Twill not harm you_.' But he refused for the sake of his conscience. Would not pay the shilling fine, either. I expected to hear he had been arrested any day. He left with the rest of them, and they've formed a little settlement of their own in Holland, keeping to themselves as much as possible. A sorry thing it is, for your aunt says they are trying to make another England there. But no one can ever re-create merrie old England on foreign soil."

The men raised their mugs to that and drank.

"Holland," one of the other men mused. "I could not imagine leaving England." The average Englishman saw their country as the center of the civilized world and exile from it was a fate on par with execution, as far as they were concerned.

"Nor I," his father agreed. "King James is not our Good Queen Bess, that much is true. But I could not leave England for anything."

Bella had to smile at that, glad Elizabeth still lived in the hearts of her people. She had not been a perfect queen, but she had loved her kingdom and its people and had done all she could to see it prosper. Compared to her sister and to other monarchs of the day, she was remarkably tolerant in her religious views. King James seemed unable to please either faction, and for the Brownists, the Hampton Court Conference had been the death of their hopes. The only concession they had been able to get from the King was his agreement to make a new translation of the English Bible.

As Bella headed upstairs to her lonely bed, she began to think on what the man had said about Leyden ... Was it possible ...? Could that be why she had felt no sense Edward was near despite the number of times she had traveled the length and breadth of the Isle?

The gods were kind. Souls were usually reborn near the area they had spent their previous lifetime, and so Bella had concentrated her search on this realm. But what if Edward's family had emigrated? She had never considered the possibility. Her heart sped up at the idea. She could go to Holland. She could start off tomorrow. She could be within days of finding him!

It was difficult to force herself to lie down in the bed when she wanted to run for the sea, to tear off her dress at the water's edge and dive into the waves, slipping into her selkie form with a quicksilver motion, the magic tingling along her skin. She wanted to swim at her top speed, swim without stopping until she reached the Netherlands where her love might be. But before she went, she should stop and see the children again. If she found him in Holland, it might be years before she could return to England.

With a guilty start, she realized it had been a long while since she'd gone home to Cullen Hall. How long, she wasn't sure. As Ward had noted, her kind lost track of time easily. It would be easier to travel east, to the coast, and then swim south ... but it was in the opposite direction of where she longed to go.

Soon, she promised her heart, as she snuggled down into the pillows. Soon she would head north into the Cold Sea, and she would find him. Her love. Her soul.

~.~

* * *

Ward dropped his quill pen in shock when she came through the door. "_Mother_?" He blinked at her, his eyes wide in his slack face. "Mother, is it really you?"

Bella laughed and darted forward to pull him into a hug. "Aye, Ward, love. It's me."

"You look..." He pulled back to stare down into her face. "I know that it's the magic of your kind, but you look so _young_. Did any of the servants recognize you?"

She shook her head. "Some of the older ones stared at me a bit, but they accepted the story that I'm your cousin, a relative of the old Dowager Duchess."

"Couldn't you... ah... change back to how you looked when father was alive?"

She smiled. "It doesn't work that way, alas. I aged along with him, and now he's gone, the glamour is broken."

Ward's eyes sparkled with tears. "I still miss him. Anne and I have worked hard to try to make him proud of us, to try to live up to his legacy."

Bella hugged him again. "I know he would be, darling."

"Come, sit! Tell me where you've been."

Bella did, but her tales were uninteresting. Her long, lonely wanderings made for poor conversation. She was more interested in how the family fared. Ward had to break the news to her that her daughters Elizabeth and Mary were both gone now, resting in the Cullen chapel near their father. She should have known, of course ... They had all been in their fifties at the time of Edward's death, old age according to the standards of their day. They had lived long, happy lives, longer than their expected life spans, but it was still a painful shock to know they had passed from this world. She wept as Ward held her, and he gently coaxed her from her tears by telling her of children, and grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, steering her thoughts back to life and the Cullen dynasty she and Edward had created.

Their large and unusually healthy family was thriving, for Bella's selkie magic linkered in the blood of her descendents, protecting the family she loved. To others, the Cullens seemed especially blessed by God with healthy, robust children who survived the myriad ailments which killed nearly half of babies before they reached adulthood. And a happy family they were, too, with strong bonds of affection. One of Bella and Edward's legacies was that no Cullen child was ever married off against their will, much to the perpetual amusement of the neighbors.

The estates prospered under Ward and Anne's careful management. As Bella had predicted, Anne made a fine Duchess once she got over her initial intimidation, administering the estate, educating her children, and expanding Bella's charitable efforts. Bella's schools had become respected institutions which now attracted the children of the nobility by virtue of its exceptional teachers, though the majority of the pupils were still the children of the poor, as Bella had intended. Her poorhouses were thriving as places which trained people in useful trades, and provided primary education for their children while the parents worked. King James had even built a few new poorhouses of his own, modeled on Bella's. It was the greatest tribute to her time as Duchess that Bella could have asked for.

As they talked, her eyes drifted to the portrait above the fireplace, the one Edward had painted to replace the one by John Bettes the Elder, the one lost in the fire that had destroyed the old Cullen Hall. Elizabeth and Ward stood at Bella's side and baby Mary had been added to the group, lying on Bella's lap. John Bettes had been a student of the great Holbein, and his painting had the same luminescent realism as his master's work. This one had been done by Steven van der Meulen and Bella had always thought they looked stiff and awkward, but Edward had loved that painting.

"I have something for you, mother," Ward said, following the direction of her gaze. He went over to a cabinet and withdrew a small, cloth-wrapped bundle. "It was actually a gift to me from Robert Cecil. I don't know if it originally belonged to the Queen and she gave it to him before she died, or how he happened to acquire it. He did not say when he he sent it to me. But as soon as I saw it, I knew it should be yours. I've been keeping it to give you when you returned."

His voice held no judgement or reproach, but she felt guilty nonetheless for how long it had been since her last visit. How many years had he been waiting to give this to her?

He untied the string that held the bundle together and revealed a large gold brooch. In the center of it, a large letter "C" was picked out in emeralds. Ward reached down and opened the clasp and Bella gasped. Inside was a beautiful portrait of Edward as he had looked at the beginning of Elizabeth's reign. In his thirties, he was middle-aged by the standards of the day, but still so handsome it took her breath away. His beautiful green eyes shimmered from the portrait and seemed to pierce into her own.

She couldn't hold back the tears any longer. Bella dropped into a nearby chair and sobbed, the heels of her hands pressed over her eyes.

"Mother! Mother, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you- I'll put it away." Ward started to re-wrap the bundle and she seized his hand. "No! It's beautiful. I just... I miss your father so much."

"You've found no trace of him?" Ward's eyes held sympathy, but also resignation. Edward had told his son of Bella's belief he would be re-born into this world, though Edward didn't entirely believe it himself. She could see that Ward had no expectation her quest would be successful, though he had hoped for her sake she would find something that would make her happy again.

She smiled at him through the tears. "It is why I've come. I'm going further away in my search. To Holland ... and beyond. I will find him. I know you do not believe-"

Ward knelt down in front of her and took her hand. "I want to."

Bella cupped his cheek with her other hand and looked down into his eyes. She wished he had inherited his father's bright green, but Ward's eyes were nearly identical to her own, large and dark brown. They were surrounded by lines now and his hair was almost completely silver, though she could still see some hidden strands of the dark red it had been. She realized with shock that he was almost seventy now. It didn't seem possible.

She smiled at him, a little wistfully. Time passed so quickly for mortals. She had missed so much ... But had she been subject to the span of a mortal lifetime, she would have been long passed by now, would never have seen her son in his elder years.

"No," he said, and he smiled back. "Have no regrets, mother. You and father gave us a life of joy. Because of you, father allowed me to marry Anne, and my life could not have been happier. And Elizabeth? Would any other noble parents have allowed her to choose the life that suited her? Or Mary, who married so 'beneath' her to a man she adored? It was because of who you are we were able to have these happy lives. None of us could begrudge that you must be who you are now, searching for our father, though we always missed you dearly."

In her mind, she saw an hourglass, its last grains dwindling and fresh tears flowed from her eyes.

"I'm glad you've come," he said, understanding. "I saved the portrait for you, but that's not all I wish for you to take on your journey." He went to the cabinet again and withdrew a bag. She heard the clink of coins and started to protest.

"Mother, I want you to have it," he insisted. "You do not know what you'll find in Holland, what you may need to begin a new life. If you find my father ... If you find my father, I want your new life with him to be comfortable, not one of struggle. I've left instructions in my will for any woman identifying herself as Isabella Cullen to have access to funds, should she return to England at any point. There is a banker in London who has a box for you which will be kept in perpetuity. All you need is to say a certain phrase to him, and he will release it to you."

"What is the phrase?"

A tear fell from Ward's eye and rolled down his gently wrinkled cheek as he smiled at her. "_Love is eternal."_

~.~

* * *

Before she left, Bella went to the chapel.

She had to pause in the doorway and take deep breaths before she could step inside. It was dark and silent within. The host was not reserved here, and so no young priest had the duty of staying with it to pray. The only light came from the cool moonbeams that spilled through the large windows to pool on the stone floor. The soft whisper of her slippers across the stone was the only sound.

She stopped before the altar and looked down at the carved stone slab in the floor.

THE REVEREND FATHER JASPER DIED 1587 IN THE 61 YEAR OF HIS AGE  
ALICE HIS WIFE DIED 1592 IN THE 59 YEAR OF HER AGE

_O, those whom death again did wed_  
_This grave's the second marriage-bed. _  
_For though the hand of Fate could force _  
_'Twixt soul and body a divorce, _  
_It would not sever man and wife, _  
_Because they both lived but one life. _  
_Peace, good reader, do not weep; _  
_Peace, the lovers are asleep. _  
_They, sweet turtles, folded lie _  
_In the last knot that love could tie. _  
_Let them sleep, let them sleep on, _  
_Till the stormy night be gone, _  
_And the eternal morrow dawn; _  
_Then the curtains will be drawn, _  
_And they wake into a light _  
_Whose day shall never die in night._  
-.-

Alice, Bella's dearest friend ... Through all of the trials of Bella's life as Duchess, Alice had been there. Stalwart and loving, Alice had worked hard to help Bella with the charitable aspects of the estate. And she had helped Japer with the struggles of his faith. Jasper had been a Catholic in all but one aspect: his love for Alice. Throughout his life, he could never shake the guilt of betraying his vows, and he could never completely reconcile the Anglican faith to the one with which he identified, especially as Queen Elizabeth had introduced more Protestant elements to the church over the years. But he had done his best to remain loyal to his Queen as head of the Church and obey her laws, even as he struggled with his own conscience.

Bella knew what Alice would say of her search for Edward. She could see it in her mind's eye. Alice would look up at Bella, her eyes shining from her small, earnest face and say that Bella needed to trust in God that he would lead her to Edward when the time was right. Jasper would also advise patience, but he had always seemed to have an abundance of that particular virtue.

Bella knelt down and pressed her hand to the stone slab for a moment. Would she see them again, too? Alice and Jasper weren't selkies, but to her, they had seemed soul-bound. She hoped no matter where they were, they were still together, as happy as they had been during their life here.

She stood and headed over to the wall where two new tombs had been added in her absence. _LADY ELIZABETH_ read the monument beneath the window. Her daughter's effigy was carved on its top, a book in her hand, the eyes transfixed on the page. A verse in Latin was below, praising her learning, and Bella suspected it had been composed by Elizabeth herself. It was decorated with the Cullen coat of arms, fitting for the eldest daughter of a royal Duke. She pressed a kiss to the cold cheek of the effigy and rested her forehead there for a minute. Wherever Elizabeth had gone, she hoped there was a huge library at her disposal. She remembered that tiny, sad little girl whose eyes had lit up in excitement at Bella's bedtime stories, who soaked up love like a wilting flower in the rain, and Edward's tentative efforts to show her affection.

Beside her, a low stone rectangle, housing the mortal remains of Lady Mary and her husband, Henry. The top had an epitaph with their dates of birth and death. Simplicity, as Mary had chosen, though resting with her illustrious ancestors. Her children, those who were already gone, were buried in the churchyard with their own families. Bella caressed the lid, and rubbed away the tear that fell there with her sleeve. She had named her daughter after the sad Queen who never found the love she craved, but this Mary had a life of joy with her husband and children, as Bella had hoped.

Emmett and Rose ... Bella had always wished he would remarry and try to find happiness again, but Emmett's heart had been buried in that tomb long before the rest of him joined his wife. Only a few short years of happiness together... And Rose had given her life to save Bella. How had he not hated Bella for that? Like Jasper and Alice, Bella hoped he was with his Rose, wherever they might be. Bella wouldn't blame Rose if she didn't want to return to the world that had been such a hard place for her.

She finally approached the tomb she dreaded, the one that held her Edward. She expected it to shatter her heart again upon seeing it, but when she finally lifted her eyes to the effigy lying on top, she felt only the lingering sorrow of the lost of their old life. A soft breath puffed out of her and she laid a hand on its cool marble side. There had been no reason to fear it. He was not here. Tears fell to the floor in front of it, but they were not ones of anguish and despair. He was not here. Only the memories of their last life together.

She felt ... _hope_.

~.~

* * *

Holland.

Bella had been here once before, but it had been so long ago the land was then known as Frisia. She waited until the cover of darkness and padded up the muddy bank of the bay near Amsterdam to the treeline. Looking around to make sure she was still unseen, she opened the bag tied around her waist. Ward had given her an oilskin bag, and the items within it were wrapped in additional layers of waterproofed fabric. Further proof he had inherited his father's careful nature. She checked the portrait locket first, the most important item to her, and found it secure and dry, even after such a long swim. The letters of introduction, and bank documents with it were safe as well.

Below that packet was a bundle that held a gown and shift, which she wriggled into behind a tree. The dress was not the gown of a Duchess, but of a gentlewoman in mourning, made of black velvet, heavily embroidered in black silk thread. It was an expensive fabric, because a true black was very difficult color to accomplish with the natural dyes of the day, and velvet itself was very costly. Instead of the high, elaborate ruffs of her days at court, she had one of the new softer "falling collars" of lace. Much easier to transport and still look respectable, her son had said. Bella laughed softly as she donned it. Even with his unconventional upbringing, Ward was much like his father in his propriety, as well. The gown was fine enough not to raise suspicion if Bella spent her gold, but plain enough not to offend the somber-dressing Dissenters.

Bella sat down on a fallen log to slip on her stockings, and tied them above the knee with their ribbon garters. Queen Elizabeth had been given a pair of silk stockings at one point during her reign-the first pair of silk stockings in England- and had fallen in love with them. She sent Bella dozens of pairs, insisting they were far superior to linen. Bella hadn't had a preference, but to be polite, had thanked her profusely, and every year after that, Bess had sent her another shipment, whether she needed them or not. The memory made Bella smile. She had a feeling she'd never don her stockings again without thinking of Bess and her zeal for silk hosiery.

Into the bag, she put her dark brown fur pelt. It was small, as soft, warm, and supple as a living creature, and in a way, it was alive. It was part of her, part of her magic. Without it, she could not transform into her seal form. Since she had gotten it back after Edward's death, she had not let it out of her sight. The worst thing possible would be for it to be stolen from her now, binding her to another and keeping her away from her love until it was voluntarily returned to her. She tucked it into the bag and tied it around her waist under her skirts, where it would be safe.

From Amsterdam, she took a coach to Leyden. The elderly woman who shared it with her spoke German, one of the human tongues Bella had picked up over the years, and knew of the English who had moved into their city. She was able to direct Bella to the area of the city where they were staying. She wasn't very complimentary of the group. They were insular and unfriendly, she said, and had no intentions of assimilating into the community. Many did not know Dutch and had no interest in learning it, though they had tried to get employment in the textile mills. The community had set up a printing press, but it had folded a few years ago after a large portion of the group left for the colonies in the New World.

"Colonies?" Bella blurted.

"_Ja_, the English colonies," the woman said. "Their king would not give them a charter, but he said he would not object to them building on his lands. They found an investor and the first of them left... ah, it would be about three years ago now, back in '20. More will be joining them soon."

Disquieted, Bella sat back against the seat. She would find him, she repeated to herself. It might just take a little longer than she had expected. But she would find him.

The English Dissenters had found a home on the Kloksteeg near an old church, in a small row of houses. Bella took a room at a nearby inn and settled down in the tap room to listen to the chatter, hoping to hear a name she recognized or see a familiar face. People were not always given the same names they had carried in their former lives; parents sometimes had a name already chosen they wanted their child to bear. Nor did they always look the same, but souls tended to reform themselves into familiar shapes and remain close to those they loved, sometimes lingering until they could be reborn together.

When she overheard a group of men quietly conversing in English, she approached their table.

"How might I assist you, Madame?" the eldest man eyed her, his gaze somewhat suspicious.

"I'm looking for this man." She showed him the portrait in her locket.

Bella's selkie senses were sharper than a human's ans she could detect the faint stiffening of his muscles, though his face was expressionless. He recognized the image, she knew. His gaze dropped to her waistline, likely looking for the tell-tale bulge of pregnancy. "What of him?"

"Please, sir... he is family. If you know anything-"

He sat back. "I know of a man who looks somewhat like him, but this man is younger."

Bella's heart nearly stopped. "Edward?" Tears filled her eyes even as a smile lit up her face. Seeing it, the suspicion left the man's eyes and and he smiled in return, recognizing sheer joy when he saw it.

"Aye, that is his name. Son of Carlisle Masen."

Bella had to sit down. She had a name. She was-

"But he is not here any longer," the man said. "He and his parents left for the New World some time ago on the _Anne_."

Bella took a deep breath. She had prepared herself for this since the old woman told her about the move to the colonies. She was so close ... so close ...

She purchased passage on the next ship heading to the New World, the _Katherine_, though it was agonizing to have to wait until July to leave. She could swim there herself much more quickly. But she wouldn't be able to conceal the fact she hadn't arrived on a ship in such a small population.

While she waited, she wrote to Ward to tell him of her plans and before she knew it, large crates and trunks had arrived, full of the things her son thought she would need for her new life in the colonies. She peeked in one of them and laughed. Tapestries! She wasn't even sure she would have a house over there. But all of these things had been picked by Ward with love, and she would cherish them for that reason.

She knew, as she boarded the ship, that she was unlikely to return in his lifetime. The only contact she would have would be with letters. And soon, when he passed from this world, that would cease, and the Cullen descendants would go on, unaware their ancestor still walked the earth, loving them from afar, proud of all they had accomplished and would continue to accomplish as the years passed. Perhaps one day, she would return, to walk where the ashes of Cullen Hall had once been, and to see what the next generations had built.

The ship slowly pulled from the pier and she looked back toward her last sight of Europe, her last view of the old world. She watched until the thin strip of land has disappeared from view, then went down to her stateroom which had a small window. There, she lay on her bed and watched outside, staring out at the waves, waiting for her new world to appear.

* * *

~.~

**Notes**:

- The verse on Alice and Jasper's tomb "An Epitaph upon Husband and Wife, Who Died and Were Buried Together" comes from The Book of Elizabethan Verse, 1906, attributed to R. Crashaw

- The "Brownists" were part of the group we would one day call the "Pilgrims." They were named after a preacher named Robert Browne, who was one of the founders of the Congregational Church. Over the years, it split into several denominations, part of which re-united into what's known today as the United Church of Christ, with about a million members in the United States.

- "Leyden" was how Leiden was spelled at the time. The English had a group of houses there. One was purchased by three church members for 8,000 guilders to house the church members who couldn't speak Dutch and couldn't find employment as a result.

- I'm not actually sure what month the Katherine left for the New World. I've been unable to find a reference to the date it departed. The ship arrived in Plymouth in September, and the voyage usually took around three months, so I'm guessing it left in either late June or early July.


	3. Arrival

~.~

Chapter Three

~.~

Bella had experienced difficulties and deprivations in her time on land, but nothing could have prepared her for the misery of life on a ship for months.

She was given the most luxurious accommodations the ship offered its passengers, a tiny stateroom in the stern of the ship. It had a narrow bed beneath a single window, which did not relieve the sense of claustrophobia created by the low ceiling. One of her Turkish carpets had been placed on the floor, and she had a small clothes press that competed for space with the trunk at the foot of her bed. A little table beside the bed doubled as a nightstand and wash stand, with a cabinet below to hide her chamberpot. If she reached out, she could almost touch the walls on both sides of the cabin.

A young cabin boy had been assigned to her as a servant. His name was Charles, and he was a charming child, the best part of her journey, as far as Bella was concerned. She spent hours chatting with him. He avoided trouble for his absence in other duties by saying the lady renting the cabin was demanding of his time in cleaning and fetching things for her. The captain just sighed, because he had gotten a letter from the Duke of Cullen, who was paying for the lady's passage, saying his cousin was to have her every whim catered to and be served like royalty.

Bella remained on deck as much as possible, though the solicitious sailors always tried to urge her to go back to her cabin, saying the deck with its salt spray and harsh sunlight was no place for a lady. The sunlight might tan her fair skin, and the salt spray could ruin the fine gowns she wore. Bella didn't care about the gowns; Ward had sent dozens. Her skin did not bronze the way a human's did as a reaction to sun damage, though she obeyed convention and wore a large hat to shield herself.

Even on deck, it was impossible to escape the stench of the ship. Sixty people were on board, many of whom were miserably seasick. These passengers were crammed into the hold, with no privacy except for for the few blankets strung up as curtains between the bedding areas. It was dark, damp, and fetid below, but the passengers were afraid of the unhealthy miasmas of the salt air. Whenever she passed by the open hatch, Bella heard coughing and wheezing, and the sounds of retching.

Water for washing was scarce, even if the passengers had wanted to risk opening the pores of the body to the foul miasmas. And there was no question of laundering clothes. The passengers used chamber pots and buckets for answering nature's call, which they carried up to dump overboard the on infrequent occasions the crew would let them up onto the deck. The crew were unfailingly polite to Bella, but for the most part, they found the passengers to be a nuisance and hated having them underfoot as they did their work.

Their food did not help matters, in Bella's opinion. Salt pork, dried peas, cheese, and hard biscuit comprised the most of their diet. Bella was offered the finer foods given to the officers: spiced fish, eggs and chicken from the caged fowl kept on board, goat's milk and meat, and wine. There were a occasionally few preserved fruits like prunes. Little Charles ate the meat, and traded her his own meals of oatmeal or groats from the common mess below.

Their voyage met with calm seas. Too calm on some occasions, when the wind died down completely and the ship drifted on the currents. At those times, Bella nearly screamed with frustration and impatience, but all she could do was pace her stuffy little cabin or read.

Bless Ward for sending with her boxes of books, some which she'd had little Charles bring up from the hold, huffing and struggling beneath their weight. She read to him sometimes. His favorite was the _Morte d'Arthur_, the tales of King Arthur and his knights, of which Ward had sent all twenty-one volumes. Like his father, Ward never did anything by halves. The books alone represented a store of fantastic wealth, and just hearing of Bella's books was enough to make the other passengers stare at her in awe.

She did make a few attempts at socializing, for these people were going to be her neighbors, but she found herself in the awkward position of belonging to neither of the groups aboard. The religious separatists from England considered her one of the "Strangers," people whom the colony had to accept because of economic realities, but not those the founders necessarily wanted there. Nor was she one of the farmers, loggers, carpenters, or fishermen who had come for the opportunities to be found in the New World.

Speculation was rife as to why she had come. She was a widow from a noble family, young, beautiful, rich, and independent, with a land grant of her own. But why would such a woman be headed to the colonies alone? Could she be fleeing a scandal in England? Some watched her waistline to see if a bastard child was on the way. But none was bold enough to ask her business in the colonies, and Bella did not offer an explanation.

Since Edward was likely one of the "Saints," she politely asked after books and tracts printed by their group while they were in Leyden, and was offered a series of debates on religious matters which she studied while she was in her cabin. The topics were esoteric to her, on obscure points of theology, but she began to gather the gist of their beliefs. The sect felt that too many Catholic elements lingered in the Church of England, and had wished to purify it of those elements.

They believed the only elements of the church should be those mentioned in the Bible. Recognizing only two sacraments, communion and baptism, they also felt a person's fate was pre-destined. God had already selected who was saved and damned from birth, and nothing a person could do would change that. Bella wondered what group they would reckon her in and decided it probably wasn't with the saved.

The Sabbath was the only holiday they recognized and they were strict about no work being done on that day, which was devoted to church services. Their Bible was the Geneva version, which Bella did not own; hers was in Latin and illuminated with painted illustrations, a gift from Jasper. She'd have to get a new one, because they'd likely consider hers "popish." A myriad of religious texts were suggested in their writings, none of which were in Bella's library. She felt very ill-prepared for this. One of the books she'd been loaned was _The Unlawfulness of Reading in Prayer _and wondered if she should hide her _Book of Common Prayer_. But that had been a gift from Queen Elizabeth, and she couldn't bear to part with it.

Her deep-set fear of human religion drove her to conform, at least outwardly. She remembered, decades ago, Edward warning her she could be burned if she did not obey the laws of the Church. And then, during those horrible days of Mary's reign when they had witnessed the burning of Protestants ... the horrific death of Bishop Hooper ... Bella's friend Anne Askew. And her own terror when she had been accused of witchcraft, for which Rose had sacrificed herself in order to save Bella's life. Beautiful Rosalie who felt she could only redeem herself in death ...

Wealth and status was protection, but Bella knew it was not an impermeable shield. She would have to be careful, as careful as she was in those long ago days when Mary had been Queen.

When James came to the throne, he agreed to a meeting with the leaders of the Brownist faction. But he declined to accept the reforms of the Church the Brownists had asked for, and some of their number were arrested. They decided emigration was in their best interest, and chose Holland as their destination. It was more accepting of Protestant groups.

But they were also unhappy in Holland. They felt the Dutch were immoral, and were horrified when their children began to assimilate, picking up the local language and customs. They decided to emigrate to the colonies, where they could set up a settlement in which theirs would be the only religion and culture.

However, creating a viable colony required they accept outsiders, whether they liked it or not. They made church attendance mandatory for the colonists, but church membership was only something extended to believers who had made a profession of faith. Bella studied this aspect carefully, so she would know what she was required to say and adhere to.

In his old life, Edward had been a Catholic, though he leaned toward some Protestant beliefs. When Mary came to the throne, both he and Bella had conformed to the Queen's conservative faith. After she died, Queen Elizabeth softened the hard-line stance. She never wanted to make "windows into people's souls," as long as they outwardly conformed by attending church services and were loyal to the Queen herself. Edward had always harbored a hope that Bella would come to accept his beliefs as her own, but hadn't pressured her. When he had died, he had asked for the old rites, just as they had been performed in the days of his youth, dying in the faith of his fathers.

And now he was a Protestant, a Brownist, raised in it since childhood. Would he be as accepting of her in this lifetime, or would he have been taught more stringent beliefs?

Whatever the case, she would love him just the same.

~.~

* * *

In late September, the sailor stationed in the crow's nest shouted that he'd spotted land and Bella wept from sheer relief at having finally arrived. But she was due for more waiting once the ship pulled into the harbor while the tender went back and forth with messages and documents before the ship was allowed to dock.

She was surprised to see a large number of people at the dock, waiting for the ship's arrival, but she supposed a docking ship would be quite an event for these isolated people, especially if the ship was carrying beloved family members come to join them, and much-needed supplies. In the hold of the ship, Ward had included provisions, goods for trade, blankets... anything he could think of that his mother and other colonists might need. Tapestries and teapots aside, he knew practical items would be of more value in the colonies.

There was a small warehouse at the docks where goods were stored while they waited for ships to transport them back to England to repay the colony's debt to their sponsoring company. Bella had already directed that her trunks and crates be delivered to it where they could be guarded by the men who already watched the warehouse.

The captain himself led her down the gangplank. Charles followed, jabbering excitedly about all the things she might see. He was especially fascinated by the "wild Indians" of the land, and Bella had already promised to write to him if she saw one.

"Charles!" the captain said sharply.

"Hush," Bella said to him and the captain blinked in surprise, but obeyed.

Charles, oblivious, continued his steady stream of chatter, gripping her hand until they reached land.

"It may be wobbly to you," he warned, gripping her by the arm, and she was glad for his support, because it did seem like the soil rocked beneath her feet after being used to the ship for so long.

"My lady?" A gentleman swept off his hat and bowed low.

"Mistress Isabella Cullen, this is Governor Bradford," the captain announced. He handed over his own letter of introduction for her, and Bradford slipped it into his doublet. Likely, it warned him what Ward had said about how she was to be treated. Bella restrained herself from smiling and shaking her head with effort.

"Mistress, you must be weary after your long journey. Please allow us to escort you to my home, where you can rest and take refreshment."

Bella, who had hoped to slip away and be able to explore on her own, gave him a smile. She leaned down to kiss Charles on the cheek. "Be good and continue to practice your writing on the slate I gave you," she said. "And then you can write me letters!"

"Do you promise you'll write back?"

"I do." She smiled at him and he darted up the gangplank, waving to her when he reached the top. She waved, too, and turned to see the governor watching her, a speculative gleam in his eye.

"A goodly child," she said, and allowed him to escort her into the village.

A wide dirt street at the top of a hill was lined on both sides by a row of wood unpainted houses with thatched roofs. Around the outskirts of the town was a tall wood fence made of tree trunks with sharpened tops. Fences enclosed small pastures where a few goats grazed in the tall grass and wildflowers. Chickens pecked at the soil and scattered in alarm as they approached, and she saw a few pigs casually rooting through a garbage heap beside one of the houses. The governor glanced at her and she saw he was a little anxious at her reaction, but it wasn't anything worse than she had seen in the poorer neighborhoods of England. A bit more primitive in its construction, true, but similar in style to an English village. She looked back over her shoulder and saw the calming blue of the ocean only a short walk away. It made her smile.

The governor's house was a little larger than most, wide set, with a thatched roof, pitched low. A stone chimney was set at its side. Vegetable gardens surrounded it, protected from roaming animals by a wood fence around the property. He opened the gate and led her inside, nudging aside a curious goose with the toe of his boot.

It was cooler inside the house. The ceilings were low, its wood beams unpainted and darkened by smoke. The walls were plastered white, and were bare of any ornamentation. A bright painted floorcloth lay beneath the wood plank dining table, flanked on both sides by a bench. The furnishings were sparse and plainly made, locally crafted instead of imported from England, except for a few pieces, which Bella guessed were family heirlooms. Pewter plates stood on the mantle over the fireplace.

A servant girl hurried over after hanging up the ladle she'd been using to stir the pot over the fire. She wiped her hands on her apron as she approached and offered to take Bella's hat.

"My thanks to you." Bella pulled the pin securing it to her bun of hair and stuck it back into the hat before she handed it to her. The girl curtsied and hung it on a peg by the door. Under her hat, Bella wore her linen cap, the expected headgear of a woman indoors. Except with her close family in her own home, a woman could never go around bare-headed.

"You have a lovely home, Governor Bradford," Bella said, and he smiled, but she didn't think it was because of the compliment.

"This way, please, Mistress." Bradford led her through a plank door into a small office, dominated by a large wood table. Its surface was occupied by a pile of papers and a Bible placed neatly in the corner.

He gestured to a wood chair with a woven rush seat and Bella sat down in it gingerly. She didn't fully trust the rushes to hold her weight and kept picturing herself collapsing through the frame, legs flailing. It creaked when she moved, so she tried to remain absolutely still.

"I am told you are a cousin of the Duke of Cullen."

"I am." Bella pulled her letters of introduction and credit from her reticule and offered them to him, but he politely waved them away, saying it wasn't necessary. Bella supposed not. He had the letter from the captain, after all, and ample evidence she was a lady of means, since part of his warehouse was now occupied with her belongings. "I must admit to being curious as to why you have chosen to come to our colony."

"I intend to make my life here."

He templed his fingers beneath his chin as the servant girl came through the door bearing a tray that held two goblets. One was chased silver and the other was pewter. She carefully placed the silver one on the desk in front of Bella and gave the other to Bradford. Bella thanked her with a smile. She took of it and sighed in pleasure at the taste of the fresh, crisp ale.

"Good, is it not? My wife makes it." He nodded at the girl Bella had thought was a servant and she bobbed a quick curtsey before hurrying to the door.

Bella was embarrassed at her mistake and hoped she hadn't done anything rude. She went over their interaction in her head as she asked, "Have you been married long?"

"Only since August. I was widowed -" He stopped for a moment and Bella saw his hand tighten on the stem of his goblet. "My first wife came over with me on the _Mayflower_ three years ago. The ship was still anchored in the bay. While I was out scouting with the other men for a suitable location to build our village, she fell overboard. She drowned before she could be rescued, having never set foot in our new homeland."

"I'm so sorry." Bella was horrified. "That is so tragic... My condolences, sir."

He nodded, and she could see he was being careful to keep his face emotionless. He had loved her, and Bella's heart ached with pity for him. "My thanks to you."

She took another sip of ale. "This seems a goodly site for a town."

He nodded. "The savages once had a village here, but by God's grace, a plague swept through before we came and killed them, leaving this land open for our occupation. The Lord works in mysterious ways."

"I suppose He does." Bella stared at her goblet, and wondered what had happened to them. Had the sickness been brought by the first European explorers of this land, somehow transporting the miasmas with them?

"You are a widow yourself, are you not?"

It must have been in the information he'd been given before she even disembarked. She wasn't dressed in mourning, wearing a green satin gown. But according to the story Ward had told the captain, she had been a widow for more than five years, long beyond the time a widow was expected to wear black. Most of the gowns he had sent her were in bright, fashionable colors. "I am."

"Do you intend to remarry? There are many men here in want of a wife."

Bella looked down into the depths of her cup. "If I should find the right man."

"I would advise you to choose quickly," Bradford said. He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the desk. "Not all of the men here are gentlemen, Mistress Cullen. I should hate it if someone ... took advantage of your circumstances to force your hand."

She took a sip of the ale to hide the smile she couldn't quite control. She would like to see any man try it. But for an ordinary woman, his concern would be valid. There had been many instances of women raped to force them into having to marry the man who attacked them. The same was said to have happened to Mary Queen of Scots, though there were some who claimed she had a prior agreement with the lord who had abducted her.

"Your security is, of course, my responsibility until such time as you take a husband. My wife and I would be pleased if you would reside with us until such time -"

Bella sat back in her chair and thanked the gods for Ward's insistence she go to the New World as a woman of wealth and status. She had choices, which most women did not. And now she would start exercising them.

* * *

It was nearly a week before she was able to slip away on her own. Bella laughed as she threaded her way through the trees. It was almost as bad as being a Duchess again! She had not bought any indentured servants of her own yet, but her solicitous neighbors had sent their own to help her set up her house, cook for her, clean for her, start her vegetable garden ... Bella felt overwhelmed by kindness and didn't know how to tell them she just wished to be left alone so she could explore. But they wouldn't understand that, of course.

Today was the first day no one had knocked at the door and she was relieved. She slipped into one of her simple "work dresses," though Ward's version of a work dress was finer than most of the best clothing of the women here. It was soft brown linen, artfully pleated, with slashes in the sleeves to allow the bright white chemise below, made loose enough that she could slip it on herself, and the sleeves attached easily with tied ribbons. Bella put on a bonnet to cover her cap and tied the bow beneath the bun of hair at the nape of her neck. She didn't intend to be seen on her explorations, but anything was possible.

Bella locked the door and tied the key inside her pocket, looking around the little town to see if anyone would spot her, but everyone was occupied in the fields or working inside their houses. The little street was deserted. With a grin, she darted away through the grass. She vaulted the fence easily and tore off through the woods, running like a deer, her heart pounding with the joy of freedom. The leaves were cool beneath her feet and she realized with a laugh she'd forgotten shoes, but she didn't care. It was a delight just to be able to stretch her muscles again. Cramped on the ship for so long, she had felt as restless as a songbird in a cage, but now ... She jumped and caught a branch, just for the pleasure of doing it and swung there for a moment, listening to the sounds of the forest.

She let go of the branch and dropped silently to the forest floor. It was so beautiful and peaceful here. She wandered through the woods, and was surprised at how many forest creatures she encountered. Deer, wolves, rabbits, turkeys, and birds for which she did not have a name, colorful green heads with speckled white and brown bodies. The woods of England had been mostly depleted of wildlife, but these forests were still alive. She even encountered a little black bear and they stopped to chat for a bit. Bella loved animals, and hadn't gotten to visit with many wild creatures while she lived with humans. And then, during her long, lonely wanderings, she hadn't been interested in conversation. But now she was so much closer to Edward, she felt her heart and spirit coming back to life again.

As she strolled, she encountered a small path through the treeline that looked like a human had walked through, tromping heavily through the leaves as they did.

_There_! She heard a voice and went still, not even breathing as she strained toward the sound.

It sounded like...

Tears filled her eyes. She was so afraid to hope ...

She heard it again and her eyes closed, the tears falling down onto her cheeks. She opened them again, and the world was a fresh new place, the colors bright and vivid again, all of the scents vibrant in her nose.

Alive again, _alive_ ...

She inched closer to the sound. Not even a twig broke beneath her steps to signal her approach as she crept toward it, slipping from tree to tree.

_Closer_...

_Closer_...

He was singing softly beneath his breath as he cut away the bark from around a tree. Sweat darkened his shirt between his broad shoulders, and he took a moment to remove his hat to wipe his forehead with the cloth draped around his neck. He turned and she had to grip the bark of the tree. The wood creaked beneath her fingers from the tightness of her grip.

It was him.

Her love.

Her soul.

_Her Edward_.

He was younger than he had been the first time she saw him in his last lifetime, perhaps twenty or so, more heavily muscled from a lifetime of work. His red-brown hair gleamed in the sunlight that filtered through the canopy, and even from this distance, she could see the brilliant green of his eyes, as verdant as the leaves above. She ducked back behind the tree so he wouldn't spot her and leaned her forehead against the bark for a moment.

She longed to tear through the woods toward him, grab him in her arms and kiss him wildly, but she couldn't do that. She couldn't.

Her fingers had left impressions in the tree trunk. She slipped over to another, where she could see him better. It was him.

Gods be praised, it was him.

He didn't know her. She had to keep repeating that in her mind.

_He didn't know her_.

She couldn't run up to him and grab him, no matter how much she wished to. She'd scare him to death.

She would have to introduce herself and slowly wake his memories. He would remember, in the fullness of time. His soul would recognize hers instantly, but his mind would only accept it slowly, bits and pieces emerging like a half-remembered dream. He would never remember everything, of course. The human mind was limited that way. But he would remember what was important. He would remember that he loved her.

"Soon," she whispered, though she knew he couldn't hear her. "_Soon, my love_."

~.~

* * *

Edward paused in removing the log's bark and went down to the creek to get a drink. He had stored a jug of beer in the water and it was delightfully cool as he gulped straight from the container. He didn't know if he'd ever be able to get used to the sweltering heat of their new home.

Their ship, the _Anne_, had arrived at the new colony in July, and he and his father had begun building their cabin as soon as they disembarked. They needed to have it completed before the winter came, because this was a land of extremes. The blistering hot summer would give way to a brutally cold winter, heavy with snow and ice. The first winter had killed many of the new settlers. Cold, starvation, illness ... They had to be prepared for the challenges of this new world.

It was a lush and fertile land. The streams and rivers were choked with fish and there were millions of trees just begging to be cut down to be turned into ships spars and building timber. The flocks of birds were so massive that they blocked out the sun when they flew overhead. But all of this bounty had to be gathered, cleaned, and processed in order to be used. The work was never-ending.

Edward splashed the cool water on his face and neck and went back to his work. The bark had to be removed from the felled trees as quickly as possible, or the drying sap would glue it in place. The wide head of his axe was wedged under a sheet of bark and he struck it with his mallet to push it on down the length of the tree.

He could hear the sounds of his father, Carlisle, chopping down another tree, the sound echoing through the forest. On the other side of the clearing, Edward could see the half-erected walls of their future home. His stepmother and his sister, Alice, were washing clothes, boiling their linens in a pot over the fire, which they stirred with long wooden paddles. His little brother, Emmett, played in the dust by the doorway. He was too small to be able to do much productive work beyond gathering woodchips and twigs for kindling.

Alice's betrothed, Jasper, sat at a shaving horse, making shingles by running a draw knife over thin planks of wood. He and Alice were due to be married next year and he intended to live with their family after the wedding. Edward's father was not fond of Jasper, who was one of the "Strangers" who had come for the economic opportunities in the New World, rather than for religious reasons. Jasper set traps for the animals and sold furs, which Edward's father thought of as a lazy way to make a living, since he only had to visit his traps a couple of times per day and harvest the skins, then tack them out flat in the sunlight to dry.

At least he wasn't one of those fools who spent all of his time searching for the gold they'd been told was as common as pebbles in a creek. The few Natives who were left had been enraged to find the gold-seekers had broken open the graves of their dead in search of treasure. When they'd found no gold, they had taken baskets of corn and other grave goods as curiosities. Spending all year digging holes, the gold-seekers had then been a burden on the colony over the winter.

Up until this point, all land and food had been held in common, with each contributing what he could and taking what he needed. But resentments had quickly grown. The ones who farmed fed the whole colony, including the lazy and those foolish gold-hunters. The governor, fed up with trying to assign job duties and field complaints, divided the land up amongst the colonists, each parcel according to the size of the family group. Young single men were assigned to live and work with each family. Even the livestock was divided up by casting lots. All of the property technically still belonged to the company that had sponsored the colony, but this feeling of ownership and accountability gave more incentive.

Jasper had seen Alice in the village and had fallen head-over-heels. He'd spoken to her father and had been told that he wouldn't even consider Jasper's suit unless the young man converted to their faith and "proved himself." Since that day, Jasper had not missed a single worship Meeting and he had worked for Carlisle like an indentured servant, asking for no pay other than the chance to show himself worthy of Alice's hand.

Edward was glad that Carlisle's preoccupation with Alice's marriage had kept his mind from finding a wife for his son. Edward wasn't sure he wanted to marry. This was a hard life for a woman. He had seen his own mother die of fever not long after they had landed here, and Carlisle had remarried about a week later. Esme's husband had died in that first, terrible winter the colonists had faced, and she needed a husband, just like Carlisle needed a wife to tend little Emmett.

Alice disliked Esme, whom she saw as trying to usurp her mother's rightful place, but Edward liked her. Esme was kind-hearted and tried very hard to please everyone, despite being rebuffed by her stepdaughter and broken-hearted husband.

"Edward."

He heard the soft voice and turned to see a woman standing behind him. She was tiny, the top of her head barely reaching the center of his chest. Dark hair peeked from under the edge of her white linen cap and the huge eyes in her heart-shaped face were equally dark, but as soft and gentle as a doe's.

Edward bowed and quickly retrieved his doublet from the stump where he'd left it. He had taken it off to work in his shirt and he blushed slightly to be seen in such a state of undress in the presence of a lady. And a lady she must be, for her light blue gown was made of soft, fine wool and her slender white hands bore no callouses.

She gazed at him expectantly and Edward's blush deepened a bit. "I beg pardon, Madame," he said. "You have me at a disadvantage."

Sadness settled over her and she dropped her eyes. "You don't know who I am."

The strangest thing was that he did, in some deep recess of his mind. He tried hard to place her, for surely if he had ever met such an enchanting creature, he would have remembered. Still, she seemed familiar in some way, like a forgotten word dancing on the tip of one's tongue. "Your pardon, my lady," he repeated.

"I am Bella," she said and gave a small curtsey when he bowed again, an automatic action which told him that his assumptions of her status had been correct. "I wished only to meet you."

"Me?" Edward blurted because he couldn't imagine why such a high-status lady would be interested in speaking in a man like him. A strange fragment of a memory, like a recollection of a long-ago dream flitted through his mind. He saw Bella, though she was dressed in a jewel-encrusted gown with a wide lace ruff framing her neck and shoulders. He blinked and the vision – if that's what it was – vanished.

She extended her hand and he took it and jumped when a strange tingle passed from her skin to his. He dropped her hand in alarm and backed away. "Who are you?"

"Yes, who are you?"

Edward turned and saw his father step from between the trees. His eyes were flat and unfriendly. "Who are you that you lay hands so familiarly upon my son's person?"

The woman curtsied. "I am Bella Cullen, goodman." The brooch pinned to the front of her gown caught the light and Edward saw that it had an ornate letter "C" picked out in emeralds.

Carlisle did not smile, though he gave a short bow in return. "I have not seen you before."

"I have only lately arrived."

"On the _Katherine_?" Carlisle's expression became even more cool. The settlers who had arrived on that ship about a week ago were not a welcome addition. They were - for the most part - rumored to be poorly equipped and a burden on Plimouth.

Some said the settlers from the _Katherine_ were going to be sent to re-found the failed Weymouth colony, but no one was happy about it. That colony had been poorly managed and the starving people had stolen supplies from both Plimouth and the local Natives, and the conflict had escalated to violence. The colony had disbanded, with some of the colonists joining other settlements, and some returning home to England. Relations with the Natives had badly deteriorated because of the conflict.

"I wished only to make your acquaintance," Bella murmured. "I shall take my leave. Good day to you." She curtsied again and disappeared down the path to the village. Edward watched her go, a faint frown tugging at his lips.

"Mind your work, son," Carlisle said.

"Aye, Father." Edward picked up his mallet again, but for the rest of the afternoon, his mind was occupied by a pair of large, dark eyes.

At sunset, Edward and Carlisle returned to the half-finished cabin after a swift wash in the creek. Though it was not yet completed, the family already lived inside, sleeping on pallets on the dirt floor, shielded from the elements by a temporary roof of leafy branches. It had been a dry summer, which was good for the family's comfort, but not so good for the crops.

The stone fireplace had already been completed and it was there Esme had cooked their dinner of pease porridge and a hunk of roasted venison. Little Emmett had been employed to turn the spit while it cooked over the fire and his little cheeks were still rosy with heat. Edward scooped him up and hugged him and the boy squealed with laughter. Edward couldn't help but feel a pang of sorrow when he looked down into Emmett's sparkling eyes, so much like their mother's that Carlisle could barely stand to look at the boy.

The table where the food was laid was made of rough planks, which Esme covered with an old, patched quilt. They had no chairs; they stood around the table silently while Carlisle prayed for the Lord's blessing on their meal and then began to eat. The only sounds were the scrapes of their spoons and knives on the plates and the crackle of the fire.

They all jumped when someone knocked on the wall next to the door. "Whomever could that be?" Carlisle mused aloud. He pushed aside the leather curtain hung over the opening and the colony's governor, William Bradford, stepped inside.

The governor greeted them all and declined Esme's offer of a meal. "I regret interrupting your dinner, but I needed to speak with you as soon as possible, Carlisle."

"You are always welcome in my home, whatever the hour," Carlisle said. "What service may I do for you?"

Bradford looked distinctly uncomfortable. "There is a Stranger among us of some import," he said. "I met with her again this afternoon."

"A new colonist?"

"Aye, and a wealthy one at that," Bradford said, bluntly. "Her name is Isabella Cullen. She comes with much in the way of funds and supplies."

"She has no husband?" Carlisle sounded a bit surprised at this. The laws in Plimouth were more liberal than those in England. A woman here could own property in her own name, and even sit on a jury, but marriageable females here were few in number and quickly wed, often before they even disembarked from the ship.

"That is why I have come," Bradford said. "She will give the supplies to be shared by the colony and has said that she will even purchase more for us if need be, but she asks something in return."

"Aye?"

"She wishes to marry your son."

Edward's knees went slack and he found himself sitting on the floor, staring up at the governor and his father.

"Edward?" Carlisle sounded bewildered. "Why? He has naught to offer. We are humble people with little wealth."

The governor shook his head. "She gave no reason to me." He glanced down at Edward. "She a Duke's relation, and she came with a large grant of land from the King. I cannot command you, of course, but I'd ask you to at least consider her offer, Edward, for the colony and for your own family's sake."

"What of her faith?" Carlisle asked. "Is she a member of the church?"

"She will make her profession on Sunday." In other colonies, the applicant for church membership had to undergo an intense questioning to ensure their beliefs were in line with the church's doctrine, but Plimouth was less stringent in its standards.

"If you are willing, we will perform the marriage immediately afterward," the governor continued.

Edward heard a sharp intake of breath from Alice, but she knew better than to speak without being spoken to.

Edward glanced around the house and the governor seemed to understand what he was thinking. "She has a house of her own," he said. "She bought the Douglas family's home."

The Douglases had returned to England, unable to bear the hardship of life in the colonies. Their home was in the town itself, a little gray clapboard-covered house with a thatched roof. It had been used by several families since the Douglases left, and if Bella had purchased it outright from the company ...

"Think on it," the governor urged, but Edward knew there wasn't much thinking to be done. The supplies were sorely needed by the colony and might save lives over the coming winter, and undoubtedly, his own family would benefit from Bella's wealth.

"I'll marry her," he said.

~.~

* * *

**Notes:**

- I haven't been able to find the exact number of passengers on the Katherine. Most histories of the era simply note that 120 passengers were brought by the _Katherine_ and the ship that accompanied it, _The Prophet Daniel._ So I have split the numbers evenly between them. The man who financed the colonists, Sir Ferdinando Gorges, had been imprisoned during Essex's uprising, when Essex tried to force Bess to give him an audience so he could explain himself. After James came to the throne, Sir Ferdinando was released and resumed his position as military governor of Plymouth. He secured a royal charter for the colony, though he struggled with the Puritans in Parliament. Worried about what might happen to his charter in his absence, he sent his son instead of going himself to the colony.

- The terms "Saints" and "Strangers" were not in use at the time, though the colonists themselves saw sharp division between the groups. The terms come from a 1945 book entitled _S__aints and Strangers_ by George Willison, who was the first to use those terms to distinguish the "Saints" as the religious separatists, and Strangers as the colonists who were there for economic opportunity. It's a simplistic way of viewing it, but there's no way to get into all of the various economic, social, and political differences in a simple fanfiction story.

- Floorcloths were painted canvas. The first written reference to one here in the United States is in 1722, but they were probably in use earlier, so I've decided to give one to the governor. The cloth was oiled to make it waterproof, and then painted with bright, sometimes quite elaborate designs. They looked a bit like modern linoleum. They could be quite expensive. Thomas Jefferson paid three dollars a yard for a painted floorcloth in Monticello, imported from England.

- The plague Bradford describes was smallpox, which killed millions of Native Americans across the continents of North and South America. How many, scholars still debate. It could be upwards of hundreds of millions. The first European settlers were surprised to find cleared lands and planted fields left behind by the Natives, which is why so many cities in the US are named "-field."

- "Plimouth" was the original spelling of Plymouth.


	4. Union

~.~

Chapter Three

~.~

For the residents of Plimouth Colony, church services - or Meeting - was an all-day event on Sunday. It lasted from nine in the morning until noon, resuming at two in the afternoon and continuing until five in the evening. The service itself was very informal, presented in the form of a conversation rather than a sermon. A question was posed to the elders of the church and they would all speak on the topic. The only music was the singing of psalms.

Their Meeting house was at the very top of the hill, a two-story wood building, plain and unadorned. On the second floor, six cannon were positioned in the windows to protect the colony from any attacks. At the sound of the drum, the colonists all marched inside, all nine score of them, in an orderly fashion, three rows of men, three rows of women. The heads of household all carried with them their rifles, which they were required to own and to bring to Meetings, in case an enemy saw a chance to attack the entire colony at once.

Edward sat with Emmett, Jasper, and his father on the men's side of the room. Women were seated on the opposite side of the aisle. Mistress Isabella Cullen was seated in the front pew, as her status seemed to dictate. She did not seem to notice the stares pointed in her direction. She sat on the backless bench, her posture erect and perfect, her hands folded neatly in her lap as she listened with apparent interest to each speaker. She did not even surreptitiously fan herself as some ladies did, as the day grew hotter.

Toward the middle of the room were the ladies of the Masen family. Alice was beside Esme, though she seemed determined to ignore her stepmother's very existence, never glancing in her direction, even disdaining the handkerchief Esme offered her when Alice sneezed. Esme blinked hard and tucked it back into the cuff of her sleeve.

Alice coyly glanced in Jasper's direction, but Jasper's attention was on the speaker, as it should be. Jasper listened intently to the conversation, a small frown of concentration tugging at his lips. Carlisle's eyes flicked toward him and he frowned as well, as though he wasn't sure if Jasper was really interested or pretending. Had he asked Edward's opinion, he would have said he thought Alice's intended was sincere. He'd asked many questions about the faith when he and Edward worked together, and if Jasper chose to join the church, Edward thought it would be because Jasper had been convinced their views were truthful, not just because he sought Alice's hand.

Edward's stomach was in knots. He kept glancing at the woman who would be his wife in a few hours and he still couldn't shake that maddening feeling that he should recognize her. She wore a demure black gown, suitable for a Meeting, and her hair was bound up under a crisp linen cap. She wore the "C" brooch again, pinned to the center of her bodice, which he would have to mention to her when he had the chance. Perhaps she didn't know that it was inappropriate to wear jewels to Meeting.

The brooch caught the light, and he saw that vision in his mind again ... Bella turned toward him, wearing a wine-red gown, its low, square neckline edged in large pearls. An elaborate diamond and ruby necklace twinkled on her milk-white skin, and a white lace ruff arched from her shoulders to her neckline.

He blinked, and the vision - if that's what it was - was gone. He didn't understand why he would be picturing her like that. He'd never seen a woman wearing such strange and worldly apparel. Like a queen ... Perhaps it was because he knew she was a relative of a duke that he was imagining her dressed like a courtier.

At the end of the service, Bella stood and made her profession of faith, a few simple lines about believing the Bible's authority as the basis of the church and civil law. Her name was officially inscribed into the church's register and she was now one of the Saints, instead of a Stranger.

Edward's family stayed in their seats after the rest of the congregation left for the noon break. Most of them would go to the tavern for a meal and to socialize between services. The congregation was likely to be shocked when they returned and discovered that Edward was now a married man. Usually, the bans were called for three Sundays before the couple married, enough time that any impediments to the union could be presented. He could only assume that Bella's wealth had purchased special treatment for her.

A table had been set up at the side of the room. Edward followed Carlisle over to it, where Bella stood waiting. He watched as she took a quill pen, dipped it in the ink well, and wrote her name. Bella stepped back and Carlisle picked up the paper to read and then silently handed it to Edward.

He discovered that Bella was a widow, and far wealthier than he could have imagined. She was giving him a dowry of five hundred pounds, which was more than the total value of goods the colony had produced last year and sent back to England to pay their investors. Edward had to read the figure three times before he was able to accept it. She hadn't even included a clause keeping aside her property from her late husband, but he saw no mention of children, so maybe she had no reason to do so. He had never thought about it before, but it struck him suddenly how much trust a woman had to place in a man to surrender to him all of her worldly goods. If her husband was a scoundrel, a woman could lose everything and have utterly no recourse to stop him from spending every last shilling.

He looked over at Bella and made a silent vow that he would do his utmost to be worthy of that trust.

~.~

* * *

Bella watched Edward as covertly as she could, holding her breath until he laid down the paper and signed it. To her relief, he didn't look angry. That had been her fear when she'd made her proposal to the governor, but when she had heard that Carlisle was making discrete inquiries as to a wife for his eldest son, she knew she couldn't wait any longer. She didn't want to wait any longer.

The governor signed their contract and sprinkled sand over the paper to dry the ink. And so they were married. There were no vows or rings, no preacher presiding; to the Pilgrims, marriage was strictly a civil institution.

Carlisle sighed and led Alice, Esme, and Jasper from the Meeting House. The governor followed, after wishing them happiness, and closed the door behind himself. Bella and Edward were alone.

Edward cleared his throat. He raked a hand through his hair, a gesture so much like the old Edward that it stung her heart.

"May I – Er ... I feel I should –" He paused and took a deep breath. "Mistress Cullen, why did you want to marry me?"

She bit her lip. "I can't tell you yet. I promise I will, someday ... when you're ready to hear it." A breeze swirled through the room to seal her promise and he felt it, his head jerking to the side to look back at the door, which was still shut. He frowned and turned back to her.

She longed so much to reach out and touch him, to cup that cheek in the palm of her hand, to feel the sweet softness of his lips against hers, to feel their breath mingle as they gasped with pleasure... She hid her hands in the folds of her skirts as her nails dug into her palms.

"You were widowed?"

She had to unclench her jaw to answer. "Yes."

"My sympathies, Mistress. How long ago did you lose your husband?"

She couldn't answer that honestly. "Years, now."

"You seem ... Were you ... fond of him?"

"Very much." She couldn't hide the waver in her voice. "He was a good man."

He tilted his head and eyed her curiously. "Have you any children?"

"I do, but they're grown."

He blinked in surprise. "I thought you were my age. Perhaps even younger. Are you, uh ... able to ... ?"

She smiled. "Yes, I can still have children."

He shook his head. "But you look so ... _young_."

"I was young when I wed," she said, and it was true. Young for her kind, anyway.

Bella laid her hand over his and she saw a small jerk in his shoulder muscles as though the contact had jolted him. Perhaps it had. "I know that you have no reason to do so, but I hope you will trust me. We will be happy together, Edward. I will be a good wife to you, and a good mother to your children. I ask only that you do not foster them out."

The Pilgrims believed that parental love might make a child spoiled from lack of discipline. It was common to send off children to be apprenticed or educated with another family. Bella could see the hesitation in Edward's eyes. It might be difficult for him to go against the grain in such a small community, so she changed the subject and asked him about his life in Holland.

She discovered Edward had been fostered to a cousin's family when he was a very young boy, before the Masens moved to Holland in 1608, but after that, he had lived with his family. His life sounded different before his mother had died. Though the discipline of their community was strict, it was not without love or happiness. He described delicious meals and laughter around the family table, and warm evenings in the parlor as his mother or father read to them, and the children piled in the chair with the other parent. But after their mother had died in late July, Carlisle had changed. Bella could tell Edward did not want to speak badly of him, but the joy had gone out of their lives. Carlisle was distant and cold, and he couldn't even stand to look at baby Emmett.

Every time Edward asked Bella a question, she deftly turned the conversation back to him, his life, his family. She knew he was not yet ready to hear about her lonely wanderings while she searched for him.

They chatted until the townsfolk began to filter back into the Meeting House and take their seats. To Bella's surprise, Alice sat down beside her. She leaned close to Bella and lowered her head so that her face was hidden behind the brim of her cap. "Pray, pardon my familiarity, Mistress, but I wished to speak with you."

Bella wanted to pull Alice into a hug. She'd missed her so much. It didn't always happen that family members lingered until they could all be reborn together. That Bella had so many of her loved ones around her was a special blessing. She took Alice's hand into her own. "We are sisters now," she said simply. Alice cast her a quick, startled look, apparently not expecting to be so warmly accepted.

"I wanted to ask ... That is, I'd hoped you ..." Alice looked uncertain for a moment. "I would like to come and live with you. With you and Edward ... When you're ready. I'll help you around the house, help you look after your children ... anything you need."

"Of course you may come to stay with us, Alice," Bella said. "But you needn't consider yourself a servant. You are family, and you're welcome at any time."

"I'll earn my keep," Alice insisted. "And after Jasper and I marry …"

"You will still be welcome," Bella said.

Tears welled in Alice's eyes. "Thank you, Mistress," she whispered.

Bella shook her head. "Sister," she corrected.

~.~

* * *

As they walked home that evening, Edward was very nervous. He had grown up in a strictly religious home and Carlisle considered fornication just as great a sin for men as it was for women. As a result, he had no experience with women and he wasn't sure what Bella would expect from him.

He had expected that when he married, it would be to a fellow virgin who wouldn't know if he was bad at it, but Bella had been married before, and from the terrible sadness in her eyes when she spoke of her husband, she had loved him deeply. Edward was surprised at the spark of jealousy he felt when he thought of this unknown man who had meant so much to Bella.

They went home with Carlisle and Esme for a wedding supper. It wasn't much, especially since no work could be done on Sunday, and the meal was left over from what had been prepared the night before. Cold boiled lobster (which was so plentiful and cheap that it was considered servant-class food), pease porridge, kept hot over the fireplace to preserve it, and a loaf of yesterday's bread. Edward noticed that Bella didn't touch any of the lobster meat.

The meal was a silent one, as it always was at his father's table since his wife had passed. Edward couldn't look toward his bride. Every time he did, he felt like blushing. What if he wasn't able to please her? He knew that a woman had to come to pleasure in order to conceive. He had no idea what to do other than the actual mechanics of the act. Farm life, and the lack of privacy for people of their class, had taught him that much, at least. And he had heard the whispered stories of snickering boys, much of which he dismissed as myth or exaggeration. But the rest of it was all a mystery.

Edward had expected his father would explain everything last night. But he said nothing. And Edward wasn't about to ask Esme. She would have experience from her prior union, but Edward had never seen Carlisle so much as touch Esme's hand. He eyed Jasper speculatively, but how does one broach such a subject? "Pray pardon me, Jasper, but were you once a fornicator?"

After they finished eating, his father read from the Bible._ "But from the beginning of the creation God made them male and female. For this cause shall a man leave his father and mother, and cleave to his wife; And they twain shall be one flesh: so then they are no more twain, but one flesh. What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder."_

"Amen," Esme said softly. Her eyes were on her own husband, full of hope, but he did not glance in her direction.

Edward picked up the bundle of his belongings from the foot of his bed. It was small, containing only his spare breeches, two shirts, his plain, brown everyday work doublet, and his nightcap. He didn't own anything else.

At the door, Esme kissed Bella and placed a small gift into her hand, a little sewing basket with a collection of carved bone buttons, homespun linen thread, and two precious metal needles. It was a valuable gift and Edward was pleased to see that his new wife warmly thanked Esme and embraced her in return. It was a good sign.

As they departed, he saw baby Emmett wave his arms and call "Eh!" after him, shushed quickly by Esme before Emmett could annoy his father. Edward went back to kiss the top of his brother's head, and hope he would be all right.

When he and Bella reached the house, Edward was surprised to see her remove a key suspended on a ribbon in her pocket to unlock the door. As far as he knew, no other house in Plimouth Colony had a door that locked. When she opened the door, he saw why.

Bella's home was beautiful. Her walls were hung with woven, colorful tapestries and paintings of men and women he assumed were relatives. Her furniture was the fine English woodworking one would see in a noble's home, dark mahogany carved and scrolled. The floor seemed pillowy beneath his shoes and he looked down to see thick carpets. He instinctively retreated off the edge and she smiled, gesturing him back. He scuffed his shoes against the little rug in front of the door before he did. The sideboard held a bounty of fine plate. He marveled at how much it must have cost to transport all of these goods.

"Do you like it?" she asked shyly.

"I've never seen anything like it," he said. "Not in Plimouth, anyway." He turned around in a slow circle, feasting his eyes. "It was a hard life in Holland. The locals called our street Stink Alley. Sometimes, the boys used to run up the streets to the wealthier houses. Nothing so grand as this, but where we lived, they seemed like mansions ... We'd run up to those houses and peek through the windows until the servants came to chase us away. I always wondered what it would be like to live in a place like that, and now I find I'm afraid to touch anything."

"You can touch anything you like," Bella said softly. "All of it is yours now. All that you see." She stepped forward and Edward wondered if she was including herself in that statement. He felt his face burn and turned away. His gaze landed on a shelf _full_ of books. His mouth dropped open and he stared.

Taller than he was and as wide as he could reach, the shelves were full from top to bottom. Some of them had tags hanging down with labels, and some had handwritten lettering on the edges of the pages to identify what they were.

"Bella, this is ..."

She stepped closer and laid her finger on one of the books, caressing it as though it were a child's cheek. "I know your - our - faith does not agree with some of these books, but I hope you will ... not have issue with my ownership of them. Many were gifts from dear friends. If you want, I will hide away the ones that are ... objectionable, but it is my wish to keep them."

"I understand," he said, and still felt dazed. "I had no idea ... I did not know there were so many different books in the world."

"Oh, aye," she said. "Do you like to read?"

"I have only read the Bible," he said. "It's the only book my father owns. I would like to ... if you do not mind ..."

"I don't. Read whatever you like."

Edward gently dislodged a book from its place. On the leather cover was a crest, a lion rampant over a trefoil chevron, a ducal coronet at the top. He would later find the same crest on the cover of every book. He opened it to look at the front page and saw an elaborate signature, "Elizabeth R" with a series of curling lines below it. "Who was she?"

"She was my husband's cousin, and dear friend."

"You seem tense."

She released a deep breath. "It is only because I do not wish to cause difficulty within the community for having these."

He considered. "Perhaps we should move the shelf upstairs to our private ... area. If no one sees them, then no one can object."

That made her smile. He put the book back on the shelf. Looking at the shelf, he felt a strange sense of standing on a precipice. This shelf represented stepping out into a world he had never known existed, thoughts and ideas he'd never dreamt of. He understood why his community wanted to leave Holland, because the children were being exposed to different ideas and some were coming to accept them. In this place, theirs could be the only language, culture, and faith. Knowledge there were other possibilities could be dangerous. It led people to choices, and some of their subsequent decisions might not be in line with what the community taught.

What if his faith was not strong enough to withstand exposure to other beliefs?

What if this was the kind of temptation to sin his father had warned him about?

Edward did not know, but he was eager to find out.

~.~

* * *

Night fell and Bella went around one by one and extinguished the candles. She untied the curtains and covered the windows to keep out the dangerous vapours in the night air. There was no glass in the windows; at night, the shutters were closed, but during the day, they stood open to let in the breeze.

Bella smiled and took Edward's hand and led him up the narrow, ladder-like stairs. He carried his small bundle of belongings in the other hand. There was a pair of doors on a small landing at the top, two separate bedrooms, and an attic above. Edward was impressed. She opened the one on the left. Edward could only gape.

There was a huge, four-post bed with an embroidered canopy that took up most of the room. Crammed into a corner was a clothespress with a trunk on the floor beside it, and yet another of those fancy, colorful rugs covered the floor. All of his life, Edward's bare feet had landed on cold floorboards when he woke; he would thank God every morning for the luxury of this rug. A pewter chamber pot was tucked beneath the bed. _Pewter_! He shook his head.

A circular looking-glass hung on the wall, the first one Edward had ever seen. Some families had small, polished metal hand mirrors, though Carlisle had pronounced such things luxurious vanities.

Edward went over to stare into it. His hand touched his cheek and he shook his head in wonderment. He had never seen his own reflection so plainly as this. He turned to look at his new wife, realizing dimly that she was far richer than the five hundred pounds she had given him as a dowry. The responsibility of caring for such a fortune ... For a moment, it was overwhelming and he didn't think he would be equal to the task. But then he reflected his wife was used to managing it and surely she could assist him. Women in their community could own their own property, but the idea his wife might be his equal, his partner, was a new one for him, though he was grateful for it, all the same.

He couldn't hide his shock as she unfastened the bodice of her dress and drew it off, and untied her skirt's waistband to slip it over her hips, but he couldn't force himself to look away, either. She walked over to the clothes press as she folded the gown. Beneath it, she had worn a garment that fit tightly around her abdomen, which laced in the front and fell down over her hips. She unlaced it and sighed, now only in her petticoats and shift. He averted his eyes quickly and began to awkwardly remove his clothes, shoving his breeches down over his hips. He left on his shirt, which came down to mid-thigh.

Bella unbound her hair, shaking it down from its bun and he had another strange vision, himself brushing that dark, satin river of hair. He frowned slightly, because it seemed such a bizarre desire, but he could not deny, he ached to touch it, to see if it felt as soft as it looked. After she finished brushing it, she pulled it over her shoulder and deftly bound it into a braid, tied with a ribbon at the end. She tied a nightcap on her head, and it reminded Edward he needed to find his own. He rummaged around in his bag until he located it and slipped it on. It was dangerous to sleep with a bare head, after all.

She started to get into the bed, but he reminded her, "Prayers."

"Oh."

Edward knelt down beside the bed and she knelt beside him in her white shift. He held up his hands and began to pray aloud, though he had to admit it was a rote, thoughtless prayer simply thanking the Almighty for all of His blessings instead of a true prayer from his heart, exactly the kind of prayer his sect decried. But right now, he couldn't concentrate on anything. Bella bowed her head and copied his posture, waiting until he'd finished to chime in an "Amen," that sounded just as rote as his prayer. Was she unsettled, too?

Bella sat down on the edge of the bed, sinking into the feather mattress. She patted a spot beside herself and he tried to be nonchalant as he went to sit beside her, but he could feel heat suffuse his cheeks.

She seemed to understand his nervousness. "Will you just hold me?" she asked. "My husband used to ..."

"I will," he agreed.

He kept his eyes on the floor until Bella was safely under the covers, though he caught a flash of a shapely ankle and gulped. He lay down beside her and stared up at the ceiling, wondering what he was supposed to do now. Little more than a day ago, he had been grateful his father had not spoken of marriage to him and now, here he was, in bed with his new wife.

She rolled over and snuggled up against his side, laying her head on his shoulder. His breath hitched and he froze, unused to the feeling. Her body was soft, and warm against his own. So soft ... And she smelled so good, clean and crisp, like the breeze off the ocean. She laid her leg over his and he held his breath. She was very close to coming in contact with the physical reaction he could neither control nor conceal.

The church elders always suggested prayer when the desires of the flesh reared their ugly head, but he could not think of a single thing to say to the Lord at the moment, could not decide if wanted to pray she would stop, or pray she would continue.

He put an arm around her. That seemed safe enough, but he found his hand landed high on her rib cage next to her breast. He hurriedly moved it down to her hip, and then - alarmed - back upward a bit to her stomach. He felt her shake, and he had the suspicion she was laughing at him, but he could barely keep from laughing himself at the absurdity of being in bed with his wife the first time and being afraid to touch her.

"I thank you," she said, her soft voice sweet in the darkness. "I missed this."

He didn't know how to reply to that. She hadn't married him for this, had she? Simply because she was lonely, or wanted a man in her bed? But that made little sense. There were more handsome men, men of property, men of standing in this community. Why would she choose him, of the dozens of single men in the colony?

It was the thought that kept him awake long after her breathing had softened in sleep. As he drifted off, he thought he heard her whisper his name.

~.~

* * *

That night, he dreamt of swimming with Bella. Edward had never swam before, but somehow, he knew how it would feel, his limbs slicing through the cool water, and then the feeling of Bella's warm hands and mouth on his body ...

He woke with a start and found himself alone in the bed. He heard female voices, Bella and Alice. He shrugged into his clothing and went down the stairs. Bella stood by the fireplace, stirring something in a pot. She wore a pink velvet gown with a gray satin embroidered bodice which came down to a sharp point in front. The pink overskirts extended from it, open to reveal a petticoat beneath that matched her bodice. She wore the oval brooch again and he found that he rather disliked it. The letter "C" on the front of it made him think of her first husband.

Her clothing was a bit too fashionable and frivolous to be worn here in the colonies, but it would be equally frivolous to make her a new, plainer wardrobe when she already had serviceable garments.

Alice was seated at the table and had a bundle of clothing on the floor beside her. Emmett sat on her lap. He squealed when he saw Edward and imperiously thrust out his arms to be lifted. Edward chuckled and complied.

"Your sister and brother will stay with us now," Bella declared, and was seemed surprisingly pleased by that fact.

Edward blinked. He had already half-expected Alice, considering how much she disliked Esme, but not Emmett. After all, Emmett was why Carlisle had married Esme in the first place. He thought it unlikely his father would want Edward to foster his brother, especially since Edward was always more affectionate with the boy than Carlisle was. But this would give Carlisle some relief, not having to see the boy and be reminded of his beloved wife every moment.

And perhaps, it would give Carlisle and his new wife time and privacy to come to know one another. Maybe a rapport could grow between them as Esme so desperately wanted.

"We'll build onto the house," Bella suggested.

Edward hesitated. "Perhaps later," he said. There were families who didn't have a home completely built yet and it seemed wrong to take labor to expand his own.

Bella was full of plans. She thought Alice and Jasper could live in the attic after they married, until a more suitable dwelling was built for them, by either adding on to this house or building their own. She seemed to prefer the former. Edward broke his fast with bread and beer while watching his new wife talk with his sister. The two already seemed like best friends and Emmett, who was usually shy around strangers, openly adored Bella. He babbled to her and bizarrely, she seemed to understand what he was saying. She refilled his cup of small beer and he gulped at it thirstily. She ruffled his curls affectionately and he gave her a grin that revealed his few teeth.

"I'm going out to examine our holdings," Edward said to Bella, "before I go to help Father."

"Aye, do that." And to his surprise, she kissed his cheek. "Be safe, sweetheart."

Startled, Edward said he would and crammed his hat onto his head as he went out the door. How odd, he thought, as he headed toward her land, situated right outside the boundaries of the village. But perhaps she was affectionate with everyone.

Bella's land was still mostly wooded. Part of it had been cleared by the Natives years ago, before the plague swept through, but those fields were now overgrown and untended. Brush was beginning to overtake them. There was no planting that could be done at this time of year, but after he finished helping his father build, he would start work on clearing Bella's land for next spring's plowing. The tract was vast, and ran far more inland than he had ever explored, bordered by a river he had never heard of. He would simply have to concentrate on the land here, that he could farm himself, until later when they could hire more help.

He followed the path along the creek to his father's claim and found Carlisle already at work, chopping. He paused to greet Edward. "Good morn to you," he said.

"Good morn, Father."

His father seemed to search for words. "How do you like your new wife?"

Edward blushed a little. "I like her well, Father."

His father nodded. "Good. Good."

"Do you intend for us to keep Emmett?" Edward asked.

His father lifted his hat to scratch his head. "Your sister wishes to take him," he said finally. "If he does not trouble you ..." He seemed on the verge of saying something else, but he turned back to the tree he was cutting and began to swing his axe again.

Edward walked back toward the half-built house and picked up his axe and mallet. Esme stepped out of the cabin as he passed. "Good morn, son," she said.

He smiled at her. "And to you, Mother." She brightened, as she always did when he spoke kindly to her.

"I have something for you to take home to your new bride," she said. "I baked some bread and set aside a crock of preserves."

"My thanks to you," he said. "Bella likes berries."

The thought almost made him drop the axe. How did he know that?

Disquieted, he forced his mind to his work.

~.~

* * *

**Notes**:

- I'm not certain, but I believe they wouldn't have performed a marriage on a Sunday. That was civil. They likely would have considered it "work" on a Sunday. They did, however, call the bans (announcing the intended marriage, giving anyone who had a prior claim time to object) three Sundays in the Meeting. The Dutch, from whom they copied the notion of civil marriage, posted the bans in the marketplace.

- Common belief was that a woman had to orgasm in order to get pregnant. While this belief probably made for happier marriages, it led to the terrible belief that a woman who became pregnant from rape must have consented and enjoyed the act. Some traces of this belief linger to this day.

- Privacy for the common class of the day was almost nil. Families all slept in one room, and the only privacy they had would have been for those able to afford a bed with curtains. Parents likely waited until the children had gone to sleep in order to quietly enjoy conjugal relations. And, remember, the wealthy had servants who slept in their room. The idea of a husband and wife needing a room only for themselves emerged more toward the Victorian era.

- Small beer was a low-alcohol beer, unfiltered, often made from re-brewing the ingredients used to make regular beer. It was a cheap beverage generally given to children and servants. The alcohol content was high enough to kill bacteria in the water (especially given it was boiled during the brewing process) but not high enough to intoxicate unless you drank a LOT of it. A chemist in the Victorian era, William Thomas Brande, estimated the alcohol content to be about one percent.

- Books were commonly shelved with the spines facing inward at the time. Until the late seventeenth/early eighteenth century or so, there was no information printed on the spine of books. Like Bella's crest on the cover, books were often created and bound just for the person who ordered them, so their name, initials, or family crest would be put on the cover, and the book would be identified with a tag, or someone might scribble the name of the book on the edges of the pages. Books were often chained to the shelf in libraries, so putting them spine-inward on the shelf made sense, because that's the part of the book to which the chain would be attached.


	5. Rapport

~.~

Chapter Five

~.~

"I hate her," Alice said.

"Why? What has she done?" Bella unlocked her spice box and pulled out a drawer.

"It's not what she's _done_ as much as it is ..." Alice took a deep breath. "She is constantly attempting to ingratiate herself with my father, with the baby, with Edward ... With _everyone_."

"Alice, have some charity," Bella chided. She locked the spice box and put it back on the mantle. "If it were you who had married a widower, would you not try to find a place in his children's affections? In the affections of the man himself? Esme seems kind to me."

Alice put Emmett into the baby tender. It was a tall wood crate with flat, horizontal boards a few inches apart, wider at the base than the top to keep the baby from tipping it over if he stood up. Alice had put a blanket on the crate's floor inside, and she now handed the baby his ivory teething ring. Emmett peeked out between the slats.

"Well, she should have been _kind_ to someone else, a single man, instead of marrying my father with my mother barely cold in the ground."

"Your father married_ her_, Alice," Bella said. "Esme didn't jump from the bushes and drag him to the Meeting House to sign the marriage agreement."

But Alice set her jaw and stared in silence down at the table. Bella inwardly sighed and turned back to the fireplace. It would take Alice time. Her grief over her mother's death had been channeled into resentment of her "replacement." If Alice let go of that anger, she'd have to feel the pain of her mother's loss, and she wasn't ready for that yet.

Bella used the poker to catch the end of the cast iron arm set into the fireplace that pivoted to put pots over the fire or draw them out. Every woman had to be cautious around fire because of their long skirts, but Bella had an inborn terror of it. Even after seventy years in the mortal world, having to be around fire almost daily, it still frightened her. She was probably the most cautious woman in Plimouth Colony when it came to fire. She only used the arm for moving pots into place, and she shoved logs into the blaze from a distance, using the long poker.

She tasted the stew and considered adding more salt. She was hoping if she seasoned it well, Edward wouldn't notice there wasn't any meat in it.

"Have you gotten all of your things moved in?" she asked Alice.

"Aye, I have. Father let me have my mattress, and Jasper says he'll build me a bed frame." Alice's cheeks pinkened a little at that, likely imagining the fact that Jasper intended to one day share that bed with her. "I put my things in the second bedroom for now, if that is agreeable to you."

"Of course it is."

"I thought once you acquired servants, you would want them to live in the attic," Alice explained.

"I had given it no thought." Bella recalled the servants who had lived at Cullen Hall before it burned. Edward kept a severely reduced staff, but there were still dozens of them. Bella kept bumping into chambermaids she'd never met. They had all lived in the attic, in two dormitory-style rooms, one for the men and one for the women. The upper servants, those who served the Duke and Duchess personally, had their own rooms near the kitchen. It was a society of sharp class divisions, even among the servants.

"You probably had many servants back in England," Alice said, as though she had followed Bella's train of thought.

"Yes, but that is all in the past now." Bella went over to check on Emmett. When her hand touched his cheek, her mind flooded with his thoughts. Baby humans did not have the walls in their minds that blocked selkies from seeing what they were thinking. Emmett was always delighted when their minds touched and he began to babble as he showed her what he wanted. Bella ruffled his dark curls and went over to the cupboard to retrieve a small mug.

"Did you ever live at court?" Alice's eyes were shining. She leaned forward in her chair.

"I did, for a time." Bella picked up a jug of small beer from the floor and frowned. It was light. She needed more. Goodwife Bradford might be the one to ask ...

"Did you ever meet the king?"

"Nay, I did not," Bella said, and it was true. She had left behind her old life as Duchess before James's coronation.

Alice looked disappointed, but undeterred. "What was it like? Being at court?"

Bella gave Emmett the mug of small beer and he slurped at it, spilling half down the front of his dress. Bella fetched a cloth to blot at it and he mentally apologized to her as she wiped. Bella smiled at him. Such a sweet baby.

"It was crowded and filthy, a place of scheming and intrigue," she said to Alice. "I never enjoyed being there."

Alice frowned, propping her chin in her hand. It wasn't what she'd wanted to hear, Bella could tell. She thought of the court under Bess, such a different atmosphere than it had been under Mary's time. Mary, who was so sad and lonely, who could never understand why restoring England to the old faith hadn't also restored the magical, golden kingdom she remembered from her youth. Why burning hundreds of heretics hadn't halted the growth of the new religion. Bella remembered screams and fire from those days, and the constant underlying terror that she or Bess might find themselves in those flames.

But when Bess had come to the throne, the court had become a different place. Bella and Edward had left, because Bess would not force them to remain, and after Edward had publicly renounced his claim to the throne, their family was no longer the target of plotters. They could live in peace in their small manor house by the sea, and they had, returning only for occasional holidays or times of crisis, when Bess needed them. But they'd had their fill of court life.

Bella sighed, because the disappointment in Alice's eyes was too much. She gave Alice the glittering vision of the court she wanted. "There were feasts every night at the court, the food served to the nobles on golden plate. Music and jesters entertained us as we ate. And after that, there was dancing and masques. Sometimes plays put on by the London companies. Hundreds of ladies in dresses sewn with diamonds and pearls served the Queen."

"Queen Anne? Did you meet her?"

Bella realized her mistake and swallowed. She went back to the fireplace and used the poker to draw out the pot again. "No, I never actually met Queen Anne, either."

"But you saw her." Alice's eyes were wide. "What did she look like?"

Bella forced a laugh. "Oh, one queen is much like any other. All satin and jewels. My husband and I did not spend much time at court. We prefered home life."

"But if you are a cousin of the Duke of Cullen, and he is a cousin of the King, does that not make you related to the King as well?"

Bella waved a hand. "At a fair distance." She hated to lie, but she wanted to get Alice off the subject.

Alice shook her head. "I cannot believe my brother is married to one who has royal blood." Her eyes sharpened and she looked at Bella intently. "Why _did_ you want to marry my brother?"

"That is a story for another day," Bella said, with a firm note that brooked no argument, a tone she had learned from her time as Duchess.

"In any case, I'm glad of it," Alice said softly. "Verily, I think he'll be happy with you. I don't know why ... It's so strange, but you feel so _familiar_, Bella. The two of you _together_ seems familiar, like a lock and key that have worn grooves in tandem."

Alice's soul remembered, even if her mind did not. "I will try to my utmost power to make him happy, Alice, I promise."

Alice jerked her head toward the open windows as a breeze suddenly stirred on a day of no wind, but she didn't make the connection, of course. Perhaps baby Emmett did. He squealed and clapped.

"And I want you to be happy with us, too, Alice."

"I will be," Alice replied. "Happier than I was at home, anyway." A scowl twisted her lips. "I know you're right about why Esme is trying to ... build relationships with us, but I just can't ... I'm sorry, but ..."

"The price of living here is that you must be kinder to Esme when you meet," Bella said. "I insist upon it. Do you promise you will try?"

Alice took a deep breath. "I will try."

Bella gave her a reproving look, but softened it with a smile. "You must do better than _try_."

"I will." Alice gave her a little smile.

Satisfied, Bella turned back to her cooking. She sampled the stew. Maybe some more spices ...

"Let me try it," Alice said, and used the spoon to scoop up a bite. She tasted it, frowned and stirred the pot. "But there's no meat in this!"

"No, there isn't, but I didn't think Edward would mind ..."

Alice laughed. "Of course he'll mind! He's a working man, Bella. He needs meat. What do you have?"

"I have no meat in the house."

Alice shook her head. "I don't know how you thought you'd manage with no provisions. Let us go down to the market and buy some salted pork."

Bella protested, but Alice scooped Emmett out of the baby tender and shooed Bella out of the door. Bella acquiesced because Alice seemed excited to have an excuse to go and would not be deterred. After locking the door, they headed down the street for the short walk to the market.

The town had about twenty houses at this point, four or five of which had been fully constructed into pleasant little family homes. They were sided in clapboards, horizontal overlapping boards, which covered the log beams beneath. Each house had a fenced-in garden, meant to protect the vegetables from the marauding pigs, which Alice told her were a nuisance. Many people just let them roam, and the pigs fed themselves from the garbage piles beside the houses. Chickens also roamed at will, pecking the soil. The tall palisade fence around the town kept the animals from escaping into the woods, or being taken by rival colonists or Natives.

Even more buildings were under construction, swarms of men climbing over them as they split and lifted logs, pausing to lift their hats as the ladies passed by. The town gave every impression of a growing, prosperous little place, which no one would have guessed would ever be true after that first, terrible winter when they shivered and starved, their weakened bodies wracked by illness.

The market had sprung up, almost spontaneously, when the governor divided the land and supplies among the colonists. It was located down near the docks, where the ships unloaded their goods, a convenient place for trade. One of the intrepid colonists who owned a lot nearby had built a small market house, a simple structure with a roof, and charged the sellers to set up a table inside. Most durable goods still had to be purchased from England, but the colonists traded vegetables, goat milk, cheese, and butter, eggs, furs, baked goods, and woodcrafts.

It looked crowded inside the market house, and Bella hesitated to step inside. She turned to tell Alice they should perhaps come back later and bumped into a man behind her. She had to crane her neck to look up at him.

He was much taller than the average European man, his bronze chest sleek with muscle. His sleek black hair was bound into a pair of braids. A pair of leather leggings encased his legs up to the thigh, but the rest of him was bare, save for a beaded leather loincloth around his hips. Around his neck, he had several necklaces of shell and glass beads. His black eyes gleamed as he gazed down at Bella.

She swept into a bow. "I beg your pardon, sir."

"Bella, don't talk to him!" Alice hissed.

The man regarded Bella for a moment, and then inclined his head. He picked up the bundle of furs at his feet and went inside the market house.

"We should return later, when he's gone," Alice said. She grabbed Bella's hand and drew her toward the warehouse, where guards were stationed. Alice seemed to feel safer near the men with guns, though the guards themselves looked bored and indolent as they lounged against the side of the building.

"Why did you speak to that savage?" Alice demanded. "Bella, they told us at Meeting if we encountered one not to say anything, just to get away as quickly as possible. They are _dangerous_."

"Bah!" Bella said. "He was just at Market to trade, as we were. He was no more dangerous than you at the moment. I bumped into him, Alice; 'twould have been rude not to apologize."

"But, Bella, they aren't ..." Alice seemed to search for words. She tossed her hands.

"Aren't _what_, Alice?" Bella said, her impatience breaking through. "If I've learned one thing in life it's that you'll never go wrong being courteous to all you encounter, regardless of their status." She led Alice over to a shady spot by the warehouse where a pile of felled logs made a convenient bench. "Now, sit down here and tell me why you think they're dangerous."

Alice did, haltingly, and Bella had to fill in many of the details later. Alice knew little of the situation outside of her own fear, fear of the endless forests and the dangers they might contain, surrounding their little fenced village, a tiny oasis of dubious safety. She knew only the terrible stories she'd heard of "the savages" and the cruelties they were said to inflict on their victims. No one talked to women about treaties, and alliances, and the political structure of the Native tribes. She knew nothing of their society and culture; to her, they were wild men, uncivilized, and unpredictable. Alice knew only what she heard in whispered gossip. And she was terrified.

The Wôpanâak people had suffered terribly from the plague which swept through the land before the European settlers arrived, and now their numbers were few. Their chief, Massasoit, had ceded land to the colonists in a treaty two years ago, but at times, tensions between the two groups had been high. During that first, terrible winter, the colonists had broken into some Native burial sites and stolen grave goods, including baskets of corn. During one of these incidents, there had been a skirmish with a small group of Native men and the colonists had to drop the items and flee back to the safety of the _Mayflower_.

Since then, Captain Myles Standish had led a raid against the Natives to try to prevent any threats from arising, and had ordered the palisade fence built. The colonists were still terrified, and whenever one of the Natives showed up, even to trade, they saw it as the potential precursor to an attack. The men at the town gates would only allow one or two Native men inside the town at a time.

A small commotion down at the docks ended their conversation. The caption of the _Katherine_ was setting up a table, and a line of people were brought out to stand beside it.

"Oh, they're selling indentures today," Alice said. "You should buy some servants while we're here."

Bella paled. "They're ... _slaves_?"

"Oh, no, not slaves," Alice said hastily. "Indentures. They agreed to be bound to service for seven years in exchange for someone paying the ship's captain for their journey here. After the seven years are finished, they're free. You should purchase some for the house, and to assist Edward with farming."

"Perhaps soon," Bella hedged. "Why did they wait a week to sell them?"

"Probably to have them help unload and clean the ship," Alice said. "It takes a lot of work to prepare the ship for its return journey, and why not use labor you already have, then sell them before you get ready to depart?"

Bella supposed that made sense. "I hadn't thought of acquiring servants so soon."

Alice shrugged. "You will have to wait for the next ship, if you don't buy any of these."

"Why don't we see how well we get on without servants and then decide?"

Alice laughed. "Bella, have you ever pulled a plow?"

"I can't say I have." But it wouldn't be hard for her, being much stronger than a human.

"Or washed clothes?"

"No, but I know other women do it all the time. Surely, I can - "

Alice stood and walked over to Bella. She took Bella's hands in her own and looked down at the soft, white skin, then showed Bella her own hands, callused and worn, her short nails ragged. "Bella, you need servants. And Edward will need help, too."

"How will I know who to buy? Shouldn't Edward - ?"

"He's busy with Father. Come along. I'll help you."

Bella was unsure, but she allowed Alice to lead her toward the docks. She supposed it wouldn't hurt to look, even if she did ultimately decide to wait.

A crowd was gathering, people eager to buy some servants, and those just interested in watching. Entertainments were few in the colonies, so anything different from the daily routine was an event. The buyers began to ask the indentured servants questions about their experience in both, and the noise level rose to the point where it began to bother Bella's sensitive ears. Bella let Alice lead her through the crowd over to the table at which the ship captain sat. He saw Bella and hastily rose, bowing again and again.

"Mistress Cullen! How does the day find you?"

"Quite well, Captain, but it is Mistress Masen now. How is Charles?"

He blinked, and then remembered. "Oh, the boy! Well, I believe. Have you come to acquire new servants?"

Alice interjected. "Yes, the mistress needs assistance in her new home, and around the farm. Have you any suggestions?"

The captain was delighted. "Certainly, ladies. This way, if you please."

Bella followed them, listening as the captain and Alice discussed Bella's needs and what sort of people he had to offer. It still seemed like a sort of slavery to her, because the people had no control over who would buy their contract. She wasn't entirely comfortable with the notion and wished Edward were here to give his opinion.

Bella froze when she spotted the little girl. She was at the end of the row of proffered servants, half-hidden behind the man beside her. She couldn't be more than two years old, wobbly on her feet, with dark shadows beneath her wide eyes. Bella wove through the crowd toward her and the little girl glanced up as she approached. When their eyes met, Bella felt a jolt of recognition so strong it was almost like a physical blow. Tears filled Bella's eyes and she knelt down in front of the little girl, her pink skirts pooling in the dust, much to Alice's dismay.

"Will you speak to me, little one?" Bella asked softly.

The child was terrified and tried to hide behind the man beside her, but he backed away quickly, leaving her out in the open, trembling with fear. Her skin was gray with dirt and her hair was matted and limp. She was wearing only a filthy shift, her scrawny legs visible beneath the too-short garment.

"Is her indenture for sale?" Bella asked the captain, who had followed with Alice in tow. He twisted his hands and gnawed his lip.

"That one is poorly, Mistress. Her mother died during the voyage, so now I have two costs to recoup from that one, and she's too sickly to make much of an impression on buyers. Come with me. I have better options for you."

"What is her name?"

"She's _sickly_, Mistress," the captain repeated. "We can't get her to eat, and what little she does consume comes right back up. The ship's doctor doesn't think she'll live. Mistress, if I sell you an unfit servant, your husband is likely to - "

"What's her _name_?" Bella demanded.

"I know not, mistress. She does not speak, and her mother didn't note it on the register when she boarded."

Bella stood. "I want her."

The captain shook his head with a smile. "You need children of your own, Mistress, the way you attach yourself to the little ones!"

Bella's eyes narrowed, and he realized he'd crossed a line. "Pray pardon, I did not -"

"I want to buy her indenture," Bella repeated. "I'll pay both fees."

He cleared his throat. "Your husband may not - "

Bella gave him her haughtiest stare, copied from the one Bess used to give ministers who displeased her. "Do as I have ordered."

The captain dropped his gaze and bowed. "Aye, mistress. I will take care of it immediately."

Bella picked up the little girl. She didn't resist, but maybe she didn't have the strength to. She fell limp in Bella's arms, laying her head on Bella's shoulder. "Alice, please get her indenture contract. I'll have the money waiting when you get home." And with that, Bella left the docks and headed back to her house.

She carried the little girl into the house and plunked her into a chair at the table. "Sit here," she said, and softened the command with a smile. She picked up the big kettle from where it was stored beneath the dry sink. She took it out into the back yard, where she filled it from the well before she carried it back inside and hung it on the swinging arm that held pots over the fire. The laundry tub was retrieved from the shed and she dropped it on the floor beside the fireplace.

The little girl watched with solemn eyes as Bella rummaged around in the cabinets. "I know I have it here somewhere ... Ah! Here we are." Bella brought out a pot of scented Castille soap and put it on the floor by the tub. Humming, she tossed a linen towel over her shoulder.

She tipped over one of the chairs and unscrewed its leg. Coins spilled out into her hand. She winked at the little girl. "Don't tell." She piled them on the corner of the table.

Alice arrived not long after with a scroll of parchment, tied with a ribbon. She laid it on the table. "Bella, if you were going to buy servants, don't you think you should have purchased someone ... _useful_? Edward will -"

"We'll discuss it later, Alice." Bella just couldn't think clearly at the moment. She would make Edward understand. She had to make him understand.

"Up!" she told the little girl and tugged off her dirty shift, dropping it into a pile on the hearth. She rolled up the sleeves of her gown, plopped the girl into the tub and knelt down to scrub.

"Alice, fetch Emmett's other dress from your things. We'll make him another when we have some spare time, but right now, this little one needs it. They're about the same size, I think."

Alice shook her head, but headed for the stairs.

Bella continued to scrub. The poor little creature was filthy. She had to wash her hair four times and use oil to comb out the snarls in her hair before washing it again. "Stand up, sweeting."

Alice returned with the dress and laid it over the chair.

Bella took the kettle of warm water and had Alice test it to make sure it wasn't too hot before she dumped the clean rinse water over the little girl and then lifted her from the tub to towel her briskly.

"There you are, as fresh and clean as a spring morn!" Bella smiled at her, though the girl was still too afraid to smile back. Bella dropped the dress over the child's head. It was linsey-woolsey, dyed a bright madder red - a boy's color- but it would have to do for the moment.

"Alice, please go buy me a fresh goat, and its kid. Don't separate them. I think Goodwife Martin might be willing to part with hers. Bargain with her, but I'll pay up to three pounds, if I must."

Alice couldn't understand the fuss over this little orphan child, and Bella knew it. She took some of the coins from the table and headed for the door. She paused and looked back at Bella, a puzzled look crunching her features.

"Who_ is_ this little urchin?"

"This is Rose," Bella said and smiled.

~.~

* * *

Edward reached his house just as the sun was setting. He paused on the doorstep and looked around for a moment, savoring it. Returning to his house. His wife. He could smell cooking food and hear soft female voices inside. The sounds and smell of a home. And it was _his_. God's blessings were rich indeed, he reflected as he pushed open the door.

"Edward!" Bella came over to him and smiled up at him as she took his hat to hang on a peg by the door, a sweetly domestic touch that made his grin even wider.

"Good evening." Because he thought he should, he bent down to kiss her cheek, and found himself lingering for a moment with his lips against her soft skin. He pulled back and tried not to blush.

"Greetings, Edward," Alice said. She laid a loaf of bread, wrapped in a towel, on the table. Edward smiled at her as he pulled off his boots as to not soil her fine rugs.

"Come, sit!" Bella led him to the table and turned to pour him a mug of beer. Edward bent over the baby tender to give Emmett a hug and was surprised to find not one, but two babies in the tender, one of them a blonde little girl. They turned to look up at him with wide eyes.

"Eh!" Emmett squealed and waved his arms, but Edward just stared. The little girl was scrawny, and Emmett's spare dress hung from her bony frame like a sack. Dark shadows circled her sunken eyes, and her cheeks were hollow.

"How did we acquire another babe?" Edward blurted.

Bella had been scooping out food from the pot. She paused, the ladle dripping in her hand.

"I need to ... um ... " Alice said and scurried away, climbing the ladder, her skirts clutched in one hand as her heels clattered on the treads.

"Sit for a moment, please," Bella said, and pulled out a chair for herself. Edward took another, folding his hands on the table.

Bella explained seeing the baby at the indenture sale and purchasing her contract.

"But _why_? I'm afraid I don't understand. If you were going to purchase a servant, who not one which was ... productive?"

"She needed a caring home, Edward. I didn't purchase her to be a servant."

"We didn't need another child to raise." Edward rubbed his forehead.

"I thought you wanted children."

_Well, yes, but children of his own._ Edward didn't quite know how to voice that, especially in light of the fact he hadn't so much as kissed his new wife yet. "Do you intend to adopt her?"

Bella reached out and laid a hand over his. "I was hoping _we_ might care for her."

"But you did not think to consult me before setting it in motion?" He said it as mildly as possible, but he could not disguise that he was both somewhat bewildered and annoyed to be presented with a _fait accompli_. "Bella, I know you are used to having complete autonomy, and I never intended to strip you of your independence. 'Struth, I don't think I _could_, even if I was of the mind to try. But I was hoping to be your partner."

"You are!" she said. "But in this case, I felt I had to act quickly. I was afraid she'd be sold to someone else."

She thought there was a great demand for underfed, sickly children? He rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"She's meant to be a part of our family," Bella said, and he looked up at her with sharp curiosity, because there was such certainty in her voice as she said it. But she wasn't looking at him. She was looking off into the distance, and her eyes had a soft, dreamy look to them.

"You believe that God was leading you to take in this child?" he asked.

She turned her eyes back to him, those large, dark eyes that were somehow so familiar to his heart. "I do."

He sighed. He couldn't argue with that. "What do we _do_ with her? Can we even care for her properly? By all rights, both should still be at the breast. With my mother's death, we put Emmett on soft foods because we could not afford a wetnurse and there was no woman willing to take him as a foster without some remuneration. Bella, how will we feed and care for two babes?"

"I bought a goat."

"A goat," he repeated. One of the six in the colony. He couldn't imagine what she'd spent on it.

"A goat and its kid," she amended. "I didn't think it right to separate them. But we should get enough milk for the babes, and both can eat soft foods to supplement. I already was able to get Rose to eat some bread soaked in milk, and she -"

"Rose?"

"That's her name. Rosalie."

"And her family name?"

Bella met his eyes with firm resolve. "Masen."

He paused for a moment and then gave her a small smile and a nod of agreement. "Masen."

Edward went over to the baby tender and looked down at the children. He found them both asleep, side by side. Emmett had his fist tangled in Rose's blonde curls.

~.~

* * *

They made up a temporary bed for Rose in Alice's room, using a drawer from one of Bella's cabinets and a pillow. Alice was aghast when Bella suggested cutting down one of her dresses to make clothes for Rose.

"You cannot dress a child in velvet!"

"Whyever not?" Bella's own children had been dressed in jeweled silks and velvet from infancy.

"Bella, be reasonable! It will be ruined the first time she wears it."

Bella shrugged. "And so I'll make her more."

Alice was rooted through Bella's clothes press. "Here." She had extracted the linen "work dress" Bella had worn the day she found Edward singing in the woods. "This is much more suitable."

Bella grimaced. Brown linen seemed so drab for a little girl, but Alice was already tracing the outline of little smocks with her finger to show how many could be made with the fabric. Bella chose one of her petticoats to be used to make chemises for the child. Alice insisted she only needed two of both, and both would be designed with deep hems that could be let out for growth. The neckline was a simple drawstring that could also be loosened. The smocks could last for years that way.

"Alice, economy is all well and good, but I have plenty of dresses ..."

"I know you do, Bella. But you don't want the children to stand out, do you? Every other child in the colony will be dressed in the same fashion. Don't set them apart in fancy, worldly apparel."

Bella supposed she was right. She had to learn to blend into her new community, just as she had to learn to blend in to the Duke of Cullen's world, so many years ago. She was no longer a Duchess, and she had to stop thinking that way.

They sewed by the fire while Edward sat on the hearth and sharpened his axe with a whetstone. He hummed as he did, and Bella poked herself with the needle because she was staring at him instead of paying attention to her work. Alice giggled at her as she yelped, knowing the reason for Bella's distraction.

Edward frowned and stood. "Let me see."

"It's nothing," Bella said, shaking her hand.

"Let me see," he repeated, and took her hand in his own, peering down at her finger as though he expected to see a jagged wound instead of a tiny dot of blood.

"I am well."

"We should bandage it," he said. He picked up one of the scraps of cloth from the cutting of Bella's dress and dipped it in the water pail.

"Edward, really." But she let him dab at her finger with the cloth because it felt so nice to have her hand held in his own. His hands were rough with callouses and it made her shiver as he traced a finger over her own, looking for the tiny puncture. His bright green eyes flicked up to meet her own and Bella stopped breathing. She could drown in those emerald depths, in the beauty of the soul she saw shining back at her, the other half of her own.

Alice cleared her throat and they jumped apart, both of them blinking as if they'd been jolted from a trance. "I'm going to bed," she announced to no one in particular as she laid aside the little smock she'd finished. "Good night to you."

"And to you," Bella said. She turned back to Edward as Alice's steps clomped up the stairs. "We should retire as well."

Pink stained Edward's cheeks, and he swallowed, adam's apple bobbing. "Y - yes. I'll bank the fire and be upstairs in a trice."

Bella smiled at him. His nervousness would be adorable if she didn't pity his suffering so. She picked up her skirts and headed up the stairs. She wasn't really sure what to do. Part of her wanted to pounce on him and get it over with to show him there was nothing to be nervous about, but the more sensible side of her said she needed to give him time.

Bella checked on Emmett, sound asleep in his cradle. It was one of the few pieces of furniture the family had brought with them when they immigrated. Generations of Masen babies had slept in it. It was a deep, rectangular paneled box on rockers with a tall wood hood at the top, too deep for the baby to climb out of himself for some time yet.

Bella undressed down to her chemise and sat on the side of the bed. She listened for a moment and still heard the scrape of the poker on the stone of the hearth downstairs. She opened the drawer of her night table and drew out the letter she'd been composing.

_My derest Ward,_

_I haue found him. After all of these long and lonlie years, I haue found him. Myne hart canot sai what a joye tis to rite these words. The missyng haf of myne hart hath been restored vnto me._

_My jurnie was in as mvch comfort as culd be whopped. Tho the condytons hir are lowly compayrd to England, myne home lakks naught, and I have been wellcomed moost kyndlie by my neybors._

_I now yow worried for me coming hir, but your feres shud be put to rest. Yow provyded for me well, and I haue all I will evyr nede -_

Bella heard Edward's footsteps on the stairs and slipped the letter back into the drawer. She was brushing her hair when Edward opened the door.

He stepped inside and closed it behind him. Bella looked back over her shoulder to see him watching her. Without words, he stepped over and took the brush from her, drawing it slowly through her hair. He was overly-gentle with it, and hesitant at first, but soon he fell into a rhythm, and Bella fell into a daze, remembering all of the other times he had brushed her hair over the years. And then he would press a soft kiss to the spot where her neck joined her shoulder ...

He stroked that spot now with one of his calloused fingers and she bit her lip, scarcely daring to breathe. His finger slipped along her skin, across the width of her shoulder to the neckline of her chemise ... And there he stopped.

Bella turned her head to look back at him and he handed her the brush. Edward stood and went over to the other side of the bed and divested himself of his pants and stockings, then slipped into the bed, wearing his shirt again.

Bella closed her eyes. _Patience_. She had to have patience. But it was so difficult when she longed to touch him, longed to be held in his arms again.

She laid down, too, staring up at the dark ceiling.

"Bella?" he said.

She turned her head to look at him, and he leaned over. For a long moment, he hesitated, suspended over her, his green eyes searching hers. Bella's heart hammered and the moment stretched on, time suspended, an eternity.

And then he crossed those final inches and kissed her.

It was soft and sweet, just a brush of the lips, but it was a start. His breath was warm against her ear as he whispered, "Good night."

She unclenched her hands from the sheets. Her voice had cracks in it as she spoke her response. "Good night."

~.~

* * *

Edward watched from across the room as Bella danced with another woman, who was taller, with red-gold hair that hung loose around her shoulders, and she had beautiful dark eyes that gleamed like onyx as she laughed. They spun across a black and white tile floor in a massive room, their heavy, wide skirts belling out as they swirled, the jewels sewn to the fabric flashing in the light.

"Edward, come dance!" Bess called to him.

_Bess_? How did he know her name was Bess?

The question jerked him from sleep and Edward sat up in bed, looking around the darkened room. To his surprise, the bed beside him was empty.

Alarmed, he tossed the sheets aside, just as the bedroom door opened.

"Bella?"

"I'm here," she said.

"Where were you?"

She hesitated for a moment. "Outside."

Why in the world would she go outside? Edward shook his head as she climbed into bed beside him and laid back down. He laid down, too, and the back of his hand brushed against her braid. He started in surprise at the unexpected sensation, then lifted her heavy rope of hair, feeling along its length to confirm.

"Whyever is your hair wet?"

"It was hot, and so I wet it to cool off."

"Bella, this isn't England. It isn't safe outside in the dark." He was utterly bewildered by this odd behavior. Should he chastise her? Extract a promise that she'd not do it again? But before he could decide, her heard Bella's breathing soften into sleep and he rolled over onto his side to stare across the darkened room.

He had married an odd woman. An intriguing mystery of a creature. Every time he thought he learned more about her, it only raised more questions.

~.~

* * *

Bella wasn't asleep. It felt deceptive to pretend, but she wasn't ready to talk to him yet about her nighttime excursions. No, that particular conversation must be far in the future. She hadn't lied to him exactly ... It _was_ hot, though the temperature didn't bother her, and she _had_ wet her hair, just not in the way he'd likely imagined. Let him think she'd soaked her hair at the well. He'd think it was odd, and likely dangerous to her health, but not as odd as her midnight swims.

But there was one person who did know the truth of where she'd been. The Wôpanâak man she had encountered at the market had startled her. She hadn't seen him as he stood in the treeline, watching her. She wondered if he had seen her slip off her pelt as she emerged from the water, resuming her human form. But she could not tell from his impassive features. He just stood there silently, his arms crossed over his chest. Bella pulled on her shift and bowed to him.

He bowed in return, deeply. His English was heavily accented, but she understood the two words he spoke: "Water-Walker."

~.~

* * *

**Notes**:

- Castille soap was the best soap available. Made from olive oil instead of animal fat, it wasn't as harsh as regular soap, and it was often perfumed with scents like sandalwood and rose oil. It was usually soft, a paste rather than a bar soap.

- A "fresh" goat was one that had just reproduced and was giving milk. There weren't any cows in Plimouth Colony at this time, so goats were what they used for milk and cheese. In September, 1623, when this story is set, a visitor wrote: "_here is belonging to the town six goats, about fifty hogs and pigs and diverse hens._" The first cattle came in 1624, and sheep came probably about three years later. In 1627, when the livestock was divided up amongst the colonists, there were 22 goats and 17 cattle.

- Scholars still debate the exact location of the colony's buildings. Some accounts have the town situated on the east side and bottom of the hill where the Meeting House was located (now called Burial Hill), facing the sea, while others state that the entire town was situated on top of the hill itself. I have chosen to go with the former. I would imagine that the first structures were, indeed, right near the fort/Meeting House, but the town naturally spread out as more structures were built. In 1623, the same visitor that described the livestock wrote that there were "_about twenty houses, four or five of which are very fair and pleasant, and the rest (as time will serve) shall be made better." _I admit, I have no idea where the Pilgrims' market house was, or what it was like, so I've modeled it on other early American market houses I know existed in other areas.

_- _There were many different Native American tribes that lived in the area, but to cut down on confusion, I have decided (albeit with some reservations) to call them all the Wôpanâak. This, of course, ignores the conflicts between the Native groups, in which the colonists sometimes participated in order to assist groups which favored the colony, but it simplifies it for purposes of the story.

- Babies of both genders wore dresses until about the age of five or so, and this practice lasted up to the 1930s in some areas of the US. It's often difficult to discern the gender of a baby in an old painting or photograph, unless the child is holding a gendered toy. Red was considered a color more suitable for boys at the time, but this wasn't a hard and fast rule.

- I've added a photo of a baby tender to my Selkie Wife album on my Facebook page. The link is in my profile.

- "Linsey-woolsey" was a linen and wool blend fabric favored in the colonies because it was inexpensive, and durable.

- Bella's letter contains authentic seventeenth century spelling, which was phonetic and inconsistent. The letters "v" and "u" were interchangeable, as well as the letters "i" and "j." You sometimes see people spelling the same word - even their names- differently in a single document. The letter in modern English reads:

_My dearest Ward,_

_I have found him. After all of these long and lonely years, I have found him. My heart cannot say what a joy it is to write these words. The missing half of my heart has been restored unto me._

_My journey was in as much comfort as could be hoped. Thought the conditions here are lowly (_primitive_) compared to England, my home lacks naught (_nothing_), and I have been welcomed most kindly by my neighbors._

_I know you worried for me coming here, but your fears should be put to rest. You provided for me well, and I have all I will ever need -_


	6. Uxorious

~.~

Chapter Six

~.~

He spent all day thinking of her.

It was only after he'd nearly hacked the scythe into his leg that Edward realized he hadn't paid one whit of attention to his work. He'd been thinking of Bella's huge, dark eyes, so sweet and soft, and the way she looked at him. Every time she turned those eyes to him, they were full of warmth and tenderness. Every time he stepped through the door of their house, Bella seemed genuinely happy to see him, and interested in what Edward had been doing that day, even if it was only stripping the bark from trees. And every time she looked at him, she smiled, as though just the sight of him made her happy. At night, she curled up against his body, her head on his shoulder and gave a soft sigh, a sweet sound of contentment that always made him smile in the darkness.

When he woke in the morning, he would sometimes look down at her sleeping face and watch as the first rays of dawn illuminated her moonbeam skin. His eyes would trace the curves and hollows of her face and neck, and that soft dip between her collarbones. He longed to press his lips there. He didn't know why that spot intrigued him so, but it did.

Once, he woke with her thigh draped over his waist, her chemise pooled down around her hip and he'd had to ball his hands into fists to keep from tracing it with his fingertips. Having her in his arms felt as natural as breathing. It felt like his home now.

Edward paused to wipe the sweat from his forehead and glanced up at the sun to judge the time. It was directly overhead, and time for the noonday meal. He and Jasper had been cutting reeds from the marsh all morning long to bundle together for the thatched roof of his father's house. It was nearly complete. Edward felt himself getting impatient about it of late. The sooner the house was completed, the sooner he could fully devote his time to his own home, with Bella.

She said she didn't mind, but Bella seemed to have a easy nature. In most regards, anyway. Edward smothered a smile as he whistled to catch Jasper's attention. Bella's wrath had been a fearsome thing a few nights ago when Carlisle and Esme had come over for dinner.

Esme had been awed by the house and she - who only owned two gowns - was stunned by the array of Bella's in the clothes press and trunks. She didn't quite know how to react when Bella spontaneously offered her one as a gift, and then set about stripping Esme of her plain gray linen gown to put her into a new plum colored wool dress. Esme shyly picked her way down the stairs to where Carlisle sat at the dining table.

Carlisle had frozen in place, staring at his wife open-mouthed for a long moment. And then his face suffused with color and he demanded to know what Esme was doing in such worldly frippery.

Edward understood his reaction, even if Bella didn't. He explained it to her later, though it didn't change her opinion of the situation. Carlisle felt insulted, as though Bella were saying he couldn't provide for his wife properly.

Carlisle started to order Esme to change out of the gown and Bella slapped her hand down onto the table with a loud crack that made all of them jump. She turned to Carlisle - this tiny creature whose head barely reached as high as his chest - and blasted him with the heat of her words. "Don't be such a clout-headed fool, Carlisle. Tell your wife she looks pretty and _sit down_!"

To Edward's shock, his father stared at Bella for a moment, then blinked. He turned to Esme, and said, "I beg your pardon, goodwife. You look passing fair." And with that, he pulled out his chair and sat down, his gaze on his plate.

Bella pulled the pot off the iron pivot and plunked it on the table. "Dinner is served."

Carlisle had been quiet throughout the rest of the meal, but Edward noticed he kept sneaking glances over at Esme, a curious light in his eyes. Alice's eyes were as wide as saucers, and she kept her head down throughout the meal, feeding a jabbering Emmett from her own plate while Bella fed Rose, crooning to the little girl like she didn't have a care in the world.

Edward had expected his father would chastise him the next day for allowing his wife to speak to him so disrespectfully, but Carlisle never said a word. He was still oddly subdued a few days later, but Edward noticed a marked change between Carlisle and Esme. He now looked at her when he spoke, and he even lifted a kettle for her one day when he noticed she struggled beneath its weight. And whenever she wore that plum-colored gown, his eyes followed her.

Jasper heard Edward's whistle and picked his way across the swampy ground to the two-wheeled cart they were filling with the bundles of reeds. Beside it was a basket Esme had brought them, the contents covered tightly in a towel, and two stoneware bottles of beer. They sat down in the cart's shade and Edward pulled off the towel.

"Baked cod!" he announced. The two fish had been wrapped in leaves, nestled in the basket beside hunks of goat cheese, still in the rind, and a small loaf of bread to share. They peeled back the fish skin and began to pick out the cooked flesh inside with their fingers.

"I thought I should ask you," Jasper said, licking his fingers, "since Alice is living in your home ..."

Edward knew what was coming. He ate a bite of cheese to hide his grin.

"I was intending to speak to your father tonight." Jasper plucked out another piece of fish and chewed before he continued. "I'm going to ask for her hand."

Edward nodded. "I would be happy indeed to have you as a brother-in-law."

"I have a bit of money saved. I'm going to ask Governor Bradford if Alice and I can have our own plot of land, but until I can build a house -"

"You will be welcome in our home," Edward said. "Bella told Alice that right after we married."

"I do not know how to thank you, other than to tell you I'd always offer you the same." Jasper slung an arm around Edward's shoulders and gave him a hug. "I know Bella has resources of her own, but I want you to know I think of her as a sister, and she will always be taken care of if anything should happen to you."

"Thank you." This pact of family and friendship did bring him some reassurance. Jasper was right that Bella had resources of her own - probably quite a few Edward didn't know about, if the truth be told - but Edward well knew how these things could vanish in an instant.

A fire could destroy all of a family's assets. A sinking ship could take with it every investment. A bank could fail and its owners vanish with all of the deposits, wiping out all of a family's wealth. A child could be left an orphan with nothing left to him but to beg for his bread or sell his indenture. Theirs was a world where a widow or orphan could starve or freeze to death if no one offered them shelter. And here in this New World, the line between safety and the wilderness was thin, indeed.

Jasper tore the loaf of bread and offered half to Edward. "And how does married life find you?"

Edward felt his cheeks heat. "Bella is ... Well, you've met her."

Jasper grinned. "Aye, I have. A good wife, I'd imagine, and she seems to love children. She'll make a fine mother. And part of the joy of children is the making of them, hmm?"

Edward choked on a piece of bread and Jasper had to whack him between the shoulders to dislodge it. "Uhh, yes, I mean I think -"

"God's teeth." Jasper's grin got wider. "You _haven't_, have you?"

"I do not wish to discuss it," Edward said with as great a dignity as can be mustered by a red-faced man gasping for air.

Jasper's grin faded and he took another bite of bread. He scratched his chin as he chewed and then peered at Edward for a moment. "I'll just say this: once you do, you'll wonder why you waited."

Jasper's words lingered as Edward helped him to secure the last layer of thatching to the roof late that afternoon. Esme stood in the yard and watched, a big smile lighting up her face. Her house was nearly complete. Carlisle stood on a ladder, using precious, expensive nails - which had to be made one at a time by the colony's blacksmith, William Palmer - to secure the shingles Jasper had made to cover the gable ends under the roof. Plank siding would cover the lower walls. Inside, wattle-and daub plastering would cover the logs, and finally, plank flooring would be laid. But all this "finish work" would be done by Carlisle as time permitted between his farm duties.

Carlisle came down from the ladder and admired the house with them, all of them feeling the pride of accomplishment. Out of the corner of his eye, Edward saw Carlisle lay a tentative hand on Esme's shoulder, and she turned to look up at him, eyes shining. And to Edward's surprise, Carlisle smiled back at her.

Edward made his way home as the light was fading. As he opened the door, he heard Bella laugh, and it was the sweetest music he'd ever heard.

They had a pleasant dinner and then gathered by the fireplace. The babies played on a blanket on the floor, watched closely by Alice, lest they wander too close to the fire. Bella sewed while Edward read one of her books. It was slow going at first, because he wasn't used to reading very often, but soon he fell into a comfortable pace, and laughed softly at one point.

"What is it you're reading?" Alice asked as she picked up Rose to take her to bed.

"A strange thing." Edward flipped back to the frontispiece and read it aloud. "_A Midsommer nights dreme, _by William Shakespeare."

" 'Tis a play," Bella explained.

Alice frowned. "Play?"

Edward looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Reading it surely isn't the same as going to see the theater."

Alice shifted the baby on her hip. "Aye, maybe not." She scuttled up the stairs as if she wanted to get away from the book's corrupting influence as quickly as possible.

"Did I say something wrong?" Bella asked.

"Plays and theater are sinful," Edward said with reluctance. "Worldly vanities that corrupt the mind with vice and lewdness."

"Ah, yes," she said. "During the reign of Eliz - the old Queen, the reformers wanted her to close the theaters. I ... heard of it."

He looked down at the book in his hands and wondered why he didn't feel guilty. He should have put the book away as soon as he realized what it was, and asked Bella to remove any such works from her shelf to store away if she couldn't bear to part with them.

But he didn't feel sinful. He felt ... _curious._ He wanted to know what was going to happen with Theseus and Hippolyta and he certainly didn't feel corrupted by it. He'd heard the sermons, and he knew that if the material didn't concern spiritual matters, he should turn away from it. But still, he was intrigued by the story. It reminded him of the tales his mother used to tell him when she tucked him in for the night, tales her mother had once told her, passed down through the generations. He remembered how the tales of talking wolves that pretended to be grandmothers, fairies, and selkies, wove their way into his dreams. He half-remembered a dream he'd once had of a selkie maiden who hid her pelt in a crevice in the rock... Surely, those tales had done him no harm.

He stood and slid the book back into place and gave her a small smile. "I think I'll read it just the same."

Bella smiled too. She scooped up Emmett, who had toppled over right where he'd been playing, slurping on his rattle in sleep. She took Edward's hand in her own and led him up the stairs to their room.

He undressed while he watched her tuck his brother into his cradle. Emmett never stirred. She bent down to press a kiss to his cheek and Edward reflected how fortunate he was that she had adopted his family as her own without a qualm. She had a warm heart, his new wife.

She undressed by the clothes press, folding her gown away inside. She sat down on the side of the bed and pulled the pins from her hair. It spilled down her back in a dark wave as she picked up the brush.

"Let me," Edward said. He took the brush from her and drew it through the silky mass. He kept going, even after all the tangles were gone, because he enjoyed it so. He might have kept on brushing all night if she hadn't swept her hair over one shoulder and smiled her thanks as she began to braid it.

The action left one shoulder bare and he was transfixed by that smooth expanse of skin. Before he quite realized what he was doing, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the place where her neck joined with her shoulder. He inhaled deeply as the sweet scent of her skin teased his nostrils and ran his lips across that silken expanse to her shoulder. He looked up and their eyes met for a long, silent moment.

And then Bella cupped her hands around his cheeks to tilt his head up. She slipped her hands to the back of his head as she kissed him, her fingers tangling in his hair.

Edward had been kissed before. When he was fourteen, a serving maid had grabbed him by the ears and like his head was a jug from which she was about to drink and planted a kiss on him before he could think to acquiesce or object. He hadn't seen what all the fuss was about, but now he knew. As Bella's warm, soft lips moved over his, he knew. He discovered how a kiss could make the heart slam against the ribs, and make the blood feel like it was boiling in the veins. He never wanted to stop, ever. Then, she opened her mouth and stroked his bottom lip with her tongue and it somehow managed to be even better. He threw his arms around her and clasped her tight against him, crushing her soft, lush form to his own.

He pulled her onto his lap and she flung one of her legs around his. Her chemise rode up as she did so and he was treated to a glimpse of beautiful, shapely leg. His hand skimmed along her soft, creamy flesh up to her thigh, seemingly of its own accord. She let out a soft moan that was like a bolt of heat. He understood, for the first time, what St. Paul had meant when he wrote that it was better to marry than to burn, for he was surely burning now, in a way he had never before experienced.

A vision flashed through his mind, like a memory of a dream... _The flash of a knife cutting laces of a gown. Bella's face flushed with passion, her eyes bleary with pleasure._

Edward tugged at Bella's chemise and she helped to slip it over her head. He stared, open-mouthed, at the bounty he had unveiled. She wore nothing beneath it, and the sight of her body robbed him of all reason. She was beautiful. The most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, her flesh lush and rounded. He reached out a hesitant hand and traced a fingertip over her, feeling awed at being able to touch her in this way. And she let him, stretching back boldly to give him access, her eyes dreamy and unfocused, but not shy or hesitant.

Bella whispered an instruction to him and he was only too happy to comply. He tugged off his shirt and Edward heard his own voice sighing when their bodies pressed together skin to skin.

He kissed her wildly as his hands explored her body, stroking, prodding, seeking. One of his fingers slipped inside her. She arched against him and cried out and he instantly recoiled. "I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"

"Not at all," she assured him. "Do it again."

He complied and watched her skin flush as she tossed and whimpered. Those little sounds she made were quite helpful, he thought. He quickly learned how to please her by doing whatever made her gasp and moan until she shuddered with pleasure and cried out his name.

He could wait no longer. Her rolled on top of her and clumsily shoved his way inside. Joined with her at last, he froze in utter shock at how incredibly good it felt. He moved, cautiously to test the sensation and found himself driven out of any semblance of control. From a distance, he heard his own harsh groan as pleasure wracked his body and blanked his mind.

It was a long moment before his brain began to function again and he realized he was lying on top of her, likely crushing her. He muttered something unintelligible and rolled off her, pulling her close against his side. Exhausted, he managed to open his eyes for a moment and he seemed to sink into those dark, limpid pools.

His awkwardness returned as his mind cleared. She seemed to realize it and she smiled a smile so sweet and gentle that all insecurities melted in its warmth. " 'Twas lovely," she said. and that was all that needed to be said. He laid his head down beside her and drifted off into dreams.

~.~

* * *

Bella couldn't sleep. Beside her, Edward slept deeply, the sleep of an exhausted, well-sated young man. She smiled and brushed back a lock of his hair from his forehead.

It was different this time, because _he_ was different. He was still her Edward, of course. His soul was the same, but the life it had lived this time was far removed from the one he had led as the Duke of Cullen, and so the personality around that bright, inner spirit was a little different, just as his body was now corded with hard muscle, and his hands were rough from work. She would always love his soul, but she also loved the man he had become here.

Tonight, they had crossed a significant boundary, not only in the physical sense, but also in the sweet intimacy of their connection. Perhaps he wouldn't be so shy now.

She slid from the bed and pulled a dress from the cupboard and donned it over her bare skin. Her pelt was in a small pouch she always kept within hand's reach, and she tied it around her waist under her skirts.

Bella made her way through the silent street toward the palisade fence. She had to wait until a guard had passed by, his gun clutched tightly in his hands instead of casually propped against his shoulder. She peered down the street toward the guard tower at the base of the hill and saw not one, but two guards inside, staring out toward the forest. Something had happened over the last week, something that had made them increase the patrols of the fence, and made the guards tense and nervous as they scanned the treeline.

She vaulted the fence and crossed the clearing. If anyone happened to be looking in her direction, they would have seen only a blur of movement, dismissed as a trick of the moonlight, or grass waving in the wind. Bella concealed herself amid the trees before she slowed. She walked for a mile or so through the forest before turning toward the beach, headed for the small cove where she had gone last time. The sparkling moonlight on the water made her sigh with happiness. She wished she could see it in the day, but that was unlikely to be possible for the foreseeable future. Bella began to tug off her dress when she heard a twig snap behind her.

She turned to see the Wôpanâak man she had met before. He was standing where the sand blended into the grass, a few paces away. He lifted his foot off the branch he had intentionally stepped on to alert her to his presence.

Bella dropped her skirts back into place and bowed to him.

"Water-Walker, I greet you." His dark eyes gleamed in the moonlight as he bowed in return. He stepped forward, his hand extended.

Bella took it and nearly dropped it from shock when her head flooded with images.

She saw his life ... his home ... the face of the woman he loved ... his earnest desire to create peace between his people and the pale strangers. She saw his image of her, and felt his hope that she might be the link between them, a way of overcoming the barriers of culture and language that could create unintentional or unnecessary conflict.

Bella opened her eyes and stared at him in wonderment.

"_I thought you might be a mind-talker, too, but I wasn't sure."_ He gestured with his chin toward a nearby rock, and they walked over to sit down, their hands still joined.

"_How is this possible__?" _Bella asked. "_You are the only adult human I have ever encountered whose mind I can touch."_

"_I am a Walker, too_." He showed her his own transformation, his body seeming to explode into a huge wolf form, taller than a man, his head as large as her torso. It was the opposite of her own transformation, slipping into her pelt, enveloped by it as she took her other form. He did not have a pelt but he must be one of the fae, a shifter just like her, even if his method of change was different.

Bella had never encountered someone like him in her travels, but she had been in the New World only infrequently, and had not explored all of this land and its inhabitants. She had tended to remain on the other side of the Endless Waters.

"_They call me Jacob, the English men do. They cannot pronounce my real name_."

Bella blinked and shook her head. He had a name? The fae did not use name-words. They didn't need them with their method of mind communication.

She was only further confused when she learned he had been born to a mortal woman in a tribe of humans. Only some of their people had the ability to Walk in the wolf form. They were the protectors of their tribe, a position of honor. Some of their sons were able to Walk, but not all. They did not know why some were blessed and some were not.

Bewildered, but intrigued, Bella tilted her head as she pondered. He couldn't be fae, then. But what was he? He wasn't an ordinary human, either, but rather something in between.

Jacob had patiently answered her questions, but she was sure he had questions of his own. She restrained her curiosity and deferred to him.

"_You are married to one of the English men, are you not_?"

"_Yes_." She showed him Edward, showed him Edward's sweet soul and the life they'd had before. She felt his surprise at Edward's reincarnation, and her expectation of finding him again in his many lifetimes to come.

"_You are not immortal_?" she asked. None of this made sense.

"_We age very slowly, but we do grow old and die_." She saw that they were much stronger and faster than a human, but they could be mortally injured, whereas Bella was only vulnerable to beheading and fire.

""_You are the first Wolf Walker I have ever encountered. I hope I have not offended you with all of my questions."_

"_Nor have I ever encountered one of your kind, but_ _we have stories of a Sea Woman_," Jacob told her. "_She lived in an undersea cave, but she came to the shore for love of one of our heroes of legend, a giant man named Maushop. __She wore seaweed twined in the locks of her hair, and when she sang her wild songs, the waves churned and crashed against the shore. The Sea Woman tried to lure Maushop to live with her below the waves, but Maushop was wed to a woman of the land and had children with her. He would remain faithful as he had promised, even though he was unhappy with her._

_"Maushop's wife was quarrelsome and there was no peace in their home, so he spent hours alone gazing out over the waves where the Sea Woman lived. When she sang to him, Maushop's heart yearned to join her in the ocean depths. He swam with her sometimes, but his ties to the land kept calling him back. __When he did not come to visit her, the Sea Woman would mourn and the waters would churn with powerful waves._

_"But one day, when he returned to his home, he found his wife in the arms of another man. In a rage, he threw his wife and little children into the waves below, and the children were transformed into fishes. You will see them sometimes come to the surface, their lips kissing at the air as though seeking the breast of their mother._

_"Maushop mourned what he had done, and in sorrow, he walked into the waves, and into the Sea Woman's arms. He fell into a deep sleep, and she took him into her underwater lair. There, he still sleeps. Sometimes, the Sea Woman fears he will never wake, and when she mourns, the storms come. When the ships break against the rocks, she takes to him the treasures she finds on the sea floor, hoping these reminders of life on land will rouse him to wakefulness. But on he sleeps ... until our people need him again."_

_"Do you think your people need him now, Jacob?"_ Bella asked.

Jacob twisted the fringe on his leather leggings between two fingers with his free hand. _"I don't know, Water-Walker. A wind is rising, and I do not know which way it will blow. Tisquantum is supposed to be working for our peace, but I fear he may be creating problems with his methods."_

"_Tisquantum_?" Bella shook her head. "_I know no one by that name_."

"_They wouldn't have introduced you to him_." Jacob sighed. "_They try to shield their women from our eyes. The women fear us and urge their men to fight to eliminate the threat they feel."  
_

Bella thought of Alice and her vague but powerful fears of the Natives, fear that kept her behind a wall both physical and mental, kept her and the other women from attempting to get to know these people and building peace between their groups.

_"Tisquantum has told our people you have the plague at your disposal and can send it out to ravage us again at will_."

"_Why would he do that_?" Bella felt her eyebrows crunch together in confusion.

"_To make us more amenable to the English demands, I assume_." Sorrow suddenly made him look years older. "_We fear nothing like we fear the return of the plague. So many of us ..._" The images he showed her were unbearable. Women, children, old men and women, all of them fevered, covered in sores ... And soon, the dead and dying outnumbered the well and living. Empty villages were nothing moved but leaves pushed by the cold winds, where the bones of all the previous inhabitants lay in the spots where they had fallen because none was left to bury them.

Tisquantum was the only one of his village left living and so he had taken the position of go-between for the English and neighboring tribes because he felt he no longer belonged anywhere.

"_Jacob, we cannot conjure disease, or direct it at people like a cannon_."

Jacob relaxed a little. "_He told us it was buried beneath your Meeting House_."

Bella shook her head. "_I know not what is buried - if anything - but disease is not kept in bottles like beer_."

"_That is the reason one of our chieftains has sent a challenge_."

"_What is that_?"

"_A threat. A bundle of arrows wrapped in snakeskin_."

Bella felt the pit of her stomach grow cold. "_We must do something_." But what? Her mind was racing. Carlisle. She had to speak to Carlisle. He was well-respected in the community. He would know how to de-escalate this situation before someone got hurt.

Jacob smiled. "_I knew you wanted peace, just as I do_."

"_I will do what I can_," Bella promised. She didn't know what it was, but she would have to try.

~.~

* * *

Edward dreamed he held the bridle of a horse, leading out a red-haired woman who wore a jeweled dress and elaborate ruff. A silver armored breastplate covered her chest. Another man carried the Sword of State at her side, the sword that represented the military might of England. It had been given to her at her coronation.

Around them was a crowd of thousands. Soldiers wearing the livery of the nobles who sat on horses in front of them, small militia groups formed by the towns and villages, and ordinary people armed with clubs, scythes and pikes. Every one of them was grim-faced but determined. Edward looked out at the sea, as though he would see the Spanish ships approaching with the gathering storm clouds.

The woman began speaking, and every ear was strained to catch her words. Bess was an expert at public speaking, and at that moment, she was giving the speech of her life, rallying her troops for the defense of their homeland. Her words alone could give them the courage they needed to face a far larger, more sophisticated, better trained, and better armed force.

"I know I have the body of a weak, feeble woman," Elizabeth said, and a small smile twisted her lips at those words. "But I have the heart and stomach _of a king_!"

The soldiers who surrounded them roared their approval, their shouts ringing from the walls of the ancient fort beside them, so loud that the Spanish in their ships off the coast probably heard them, and Edward hoped it struck fear into their very hearts.

Every one of these men would fight to the death to protect their land, to protect their beloved Queen. They would fight with their farm implements, with rude chunks of wood and sharpened poles, with their very teeth and nails if they must. This woman was the very heart of England, its very lifesblood, and they shouted for her in one voice, a pledge made at the top of their lungs. They would not let the Spanish take this land. Not while a single Englishman breathed.

Edward surveyed their faces, these young men, these old men, these rich, these poor. Men of valor, every one...

Except _that_ one.

He sighed.

Large brown eyes peeped from above an ancient iron helmet's grill, and her slender hands gripped the hilt of a sword she had probably unearthed from the attic, one that had belonged to his great-grandfather Henry VII. She was only wearing parts of the pieces of the armor, because the whole suit had been far too large for her. The chain mail shirt hung down to her knees. Her thighs, clad in a pair of their son's breeches, were covered in the rerebraces, meant to protect a man's upper arm, and the pauldron shoulder plates jutted out into the air, like she was wearing a shelf.

As Bess continued her rousing speech, Edward leaned over to the bizarrely clad "knight" and said, "Bella, get off the horse."

"No," she said.

"Bella, you're _not_ going into battle."

She looked at him and raised a brow. "If you are, I am."

Edward woke.

For a long moment, he was deeply confused, trying to remember where he was. His mind swam through the cobweb strands of the dream, searching for reality. He sat up, looking around his bedroom.

It had been the richest, most vivid dream of his life. It had felt like he was there.

Why was this happening to him? Why was he seeing these things, imagining himself and Bella in situations and places they had never been? Was it reading the books and plays that had fired his imagination? Had the elders been right about these things being the doorway to idle fancies? Perhaps he should speak to one of them.

But he didn't want them to end. He wanted to see more and figure out what was happening. To see where the story led.

He slung off the sheets and swung his feet out of the bed. Bella wasn't beside him. He could hear rattling around downstairs, so she was already up, preparing the morning meal. His wife ...

He smiled, remembering the night before. His wife in all respects, now. And he couldn't help but feel a little proud of that fact.

He stood and stretched, feeling fine. The looking glass revealed a silly grin on his face, but he didn't care. He reached to pour some water in the washstand, and something caught his eye, a glimmer of gold. On the table was that hated locket Bella wore all the time, the one with the letter "C" in emeralds that reminded him of her previous husband every time he saw it. He was pleased she wasn't wearing it. Maybe last night had -

He picked it up and as he did, his thumb pressed against the catch and it popped open. It was a locket. Curious, he pushed open the cover and nearly dropped the thing in his surprise.

Inside was a painting of himself.

~.~

* * *

Notes:

- Thatched roofs began to be phased out in 1635 in favor of shingled roofs. Thatched roofs were a fire hazard.

- The story of Maushop and the Sea Woman is a slightly altered version of a Wôpanâak legend. There are dozens of versions of the stories of Maushop. He was the creator of Cape Cod according to the Wôpanâak, shaping the bay and creating islands by throwing things into the sea. His wife was a woman named Squant or Squannit. In some versions, she was a Sea Woman. In other versions, she was an ordinary lady who bore him many children. (In one version I saw, it was Squant's children he threw into the sea and they turned into orcas, reflecting their father's taste for whale meat.) The legend of Squant turned into tales of "Granny Squannit" who punished bad children, but left gifts and did favors for good children. She was said to have black hair she grew long to cover eyes that were scarred from an enemy's knife, or to conceal a single eye in the center of her forehead.

- Tisquantum, or "Squanto" as he's known in American history, actually died in 1622, but I've kept him alive for purposes of this story. He had been kidnapped by English explorers in 1605 and taken to England where he was trained as an interpreter by Sir Ferdinando Gorges (mentioned in notes for Chapter 3). He was taken back to the New World in 1614, but was kidnapped _again_, this time by an explorer who sent him to Spain, intending to sell him into slavery. He managed to convince the friars - who had rescued the captives and were trying to convert them to Catholicism - to send him home, so they sent him to London, where he managed to finally get passage on a ship back to New England in 1619. There, he discovered that his people had been completely wiped out by the plague. Tisquantum put his skills as a translator to work and began to build trade agreements between the local tribes and the settlers.

- The bundle of arrows arrived in 1621 and was the reason why the palisade fence was built.


	7. Accord

~.~

Chapter Seven

~.~

Edward stared at the portrait and blinked hard, as though his eyes would clear and reveal he had been mistaken.

But the image in the locket remained the same. It was his face.

Or, rather, it was his face as he might look in twenty years. This man was older. It was like looking into a mirror and seeing the future. His own grass-green eyes stared back at him, with light creases around the corners. His tousled rusty hair was a little darker, as his mother had predicted it would become.

But it couldn't be Edward, of course. That made no sense. It had to be Bella's first husband who was painted in the locket she wore almost every day, close to her heart ...

The man in the image wore a high-necked black doublet, a tiny ruff around the edges of its collar. Hundreds of slashes covered the chest and sleeves, so the snowy-white undershirt might show from beneath. Gold buttons ran in a line down the front of the doublet, and a wide gold chain was draped over his shoulders. His arm rested on a table, and in his hand he held a book, his finger tucked between the pages as though to hold his place. Something was painted on the book's cover.

Edward had to squint and bring the locket close to his eye to make it out, but it was the same crest with a coronet above it that Bella had on the cover of her books. Having lived in Holland for most of his life, among working-class people, Edward had never learned the complex language of heraldry. He did not know what the shield or crown meant. He knew only that it was tied to her noble family members in some way. To this husband Bella had loved, the husband whose visage sent chills down Edward's spine.

Edward closed the locket and slipped it into his pocket after he had washed and dressed. He wet his hands and raked them through his hair, leaning on the table as he stared into the mirror. There was a question he didn't want to ask, didn't even want to think, but it kept spinning through his mind.

_Had Bella married Edward because he so closely resembled her dead husband_?

He was surprised at the pain that thought gave him. He'd known there was some mysterious reason that Bella had asked him to marry her and arranged things so quickly. A reason she said she'd tell him when he was ready to hear it.

"_Will you just hold me_?" she had asked him on their wedding night. "_My husband used to ..._"

Cold pain twisted his gut, and he had to take deep breaths to steady himself enough to walk to the door. His hand shook as he grasped the handle.

He made his way down the stairs, his heavy steps clomping on the treads. Alice was at the fireplace, frying salt pork on a flat iron griddle suspended from a hook over the fire. Edward glanced around the room, but didn't see Bella, a situation which both relieved and disappointed him at the same time. It was such a confusing feeling, wanting answers but not wanting them - wanting to confront her with his wounded feelings, but also wanting to put the locket back where he had found it and pretend that he'd never seen the portrait inside.

Emmett and Rose sat in the baby tender, and it seemed like Emmett was telling Rose a story of some sort, babbling nonsensical syllables and waving his arms for emphasis. Rose gnawed on a finger as she listened, so intent on Emmett that she hadn't noticed Edward had come into the room.

Alice smiled at Edward. "Good morn - "

Edward cut her off. "Where is Bella?" The smell of the frying salt pork was making him queasy.

"She said she had to speak with our father about an urgent matter. She left shortly after dawn." Alice pointedly looked at the open window where the sun shone brightly above the horizon. Edward had slept later than he ever had in his life. He didn't care to think about the reason why at the moment.

He turned on his heel and strode out the door.

"Edward, what about your breakfast?" Alice called after him, but Edward didn't slow and his only answer was a disinterested wave as he donned his hat.

At the end of the street, he went through the palisade gate, nodding at the guards, and down the narrow dirt path toward his father's farm. The sun blazed overhead, beating down on his dark-clad shoulders. The heat seemed to shimmer up from the grass in humid waves, and even the shade provided little relief.

He found Esme in the front yard, washing clothes, stirring them in a pot of hot water with a paddle. Edward could smell strong lye soap as he approached. Esme's face was pink with heat and exertion, and her dress was soaked with sweat and the steam rolling from the kettle. Edward sympathized with the misery of women's work, especially on sweltering days like this. Chores such as washing clothes or cooking over a fire had to be torturous in hot weather, but women's lives were tied to the hearth.

"Good morning, son," Esme said. She took the paddle out and laid it over the pot's brim, wiping her hands on her apron before she embraced Edward. She peered up at his face and frowned. "What is amiss?"

"Nothing," Edward said, the first lie he'd ever told her. "I'm looking for Bella."

Esme blotted the back of her neck with her handkerchief. "She came here earlier looking for Carlisle. I told her he had gone to the Meeting House."

"Thank you." Edward turned to go.

"Wait, please."

He closed his eyes. "What is it, mother?"

"Can you please tell me what is the matter?" She stepped in front of him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "I haven't seen you like this since ... Well, I don't think I've ever seen you like this. You've seemed so happy since your wedding. If there are problems between you and your wife ..."

"No, there aren't. I mean, I suppose -" Edward rubbed his face. He reached into his pocket and handed her the locket. He didn't need to watch her reaction. The soft gasp she have when she opened it told him all he needed to know.

She was silent for a long moment, and then she took his hand and put the locket back into it, folding his fingers around the gold case. "There has to be an explanation," she said. "You _must_ allow her to explain, Edward."

"How can she explain _that_?" Edward asked.

"I don't know." Esme pushed back a strand of hair that had escaped her white linen cap. "What I _do_ know is that you and Bella are building a good life together. 'Twould be a shame to endanger that over what may be a simple misunderstanding. You must allow her to explain it to you."

"Esme, I'm her dead husband's twin. What other explanation could there be?" Edward felt his eyes sting and had to close them for a moment until he had gathered his composure. It was starting to feel like he'd lost something infinitely precious, something he hadn't even realized existed until it was gone.

"Would it matter?" she said.

He let out an exasperated sigh and turned to go again, but she stepped into his path once more. She took his arm in a surprisingly hard grip. "Would it _matter_?" she repeated. "Whatever the reason she married you, she now cares for you because you're _you_, Edward. Not because of your appearance. But because of who you are."

Her normally soft eyes had an intense light which gave further power to her words. "Your father married me because I was _there_. Because I was convenient and he needed a mother for his children. And then, you all left, and I was the most purposeless creature on God's good earth. Married to a man who would not even glance in my direction. And then your wife changed that in one abrupt moment. Carlisle and I are ..." She paused for a moment and gave a small smile, but one that was contented, none the less. " ... We are coming to an accord."

Esme looked so happy, Edward thought. Just a little kindness was all she asked. He thought of Bella's smiles when he came through the door, the interested tilt of her head, even when he spoke of something as dull as cutting reeds, and how Bella snuggled against his side in the dark. He thought of the feeling of her warm lips on his skin, and wished he could somehow go back to the moment when he'd awoken this morning and ignore the locket when he saw it on the table, and avoid upsetting that accord they were building.

Was Esme right? In the end, did it matter how they had come to this place? Could confronting her with his hurt feelings damage what was between them, like a tender new plant pushing its way from the soil only to be burned by the frost?

"Just think on it," Esme cautioned. "Remember that once words are said, you can never call them back. If you regret them, you can apologize, but 'tis just like trying to put ink back into the bottle once it's spilled. Some trace, some stain, will remain wherever it's touched. And so I urge you to consider your words carefully before you say them, Edward. Or you may find yourself looking at traces of an indelible stain for the rest of your days."

~.~

* * *

Bella hurried to the Meeting House atop the hill. She slipped through the door and found Carlisle in the center of the room, flanked by three men. The floor planks had been picked up and moved to the side, and Carlisle had taken off his doublet to work in his shirtsleeves as he dug into the soil below.

There was something buried there after all.

Bella's heart sank.

Governor Bradford turned when she stepped into the room. The other men instantly flanked him, creating a wall of bodies that blocked her view. "Mistress Masen," he said, with a bow. "How does the day find you?"

"I am well, Governor," Bella replied. She tried to peer around him to see what was in the bottom of the hole, but his body blocked her view.

The men exchanged awkward glances, and Carlisle put his doublet back on as he climbed up out of the hole. He greeted Bella politely and she curtsied to him in return. Did he look a little guilty? A little distracted? Bella could not tell.

"Might I present Captain Myles Standish," the Governor said, indicating the man beside him, and the man's leather jerkin creaked as he bowed to her. Standish was short and stocky, with a broad face covered by a heavy dark beard and mustache. He took her hand between his thumb and two fingers, like it was a bit of bread he was picking up from the table, and bowed over it.

"Captain, this is Mistress Bella Cullen Masen."

"Cullen?" Standish's eyes sharpened. "Might that be in relation to the Duke of Cullen?"

"A cousin," the Governor explained before Bella could answer. She bit the inside of her lip. One of the most irritating customs of men on land was that they sometimes carried on conversations around women like they were incapable of keeping up with the discussion.

"My kin were from a village on the Duke's lands," Standish said. He stared at Bella's features. "I can see the family resemblance."

Bella gave him a brief smile. She glanced to his left and saw a copper-skinned man dressed in English clothing, though his ink-black hair was long and braided. Shell beads decorated the leather strands that tied the ends.

"And this gentleman?" Bella prompted.

"Squanto," was all Standish said. He took her arm and led her to the door, rather than allowing the man to bow to her or take her hand. "I fear you find us at a most inconvenient time, Mistress Masen. If you could return - "

"What are you doing?" Bella asked, trying to peer back over her shoulder.

"Nothing of import," Standish replied. He propelled her out the door. "Good day to you, Mistress." He shut it with a thump and she heard the rasp of the bar being lowered to lock it.

Undeterred, Bella walked around the side of the Meeting House, out of the line of sight of any of the men who might be stationed on the second floor with the cannon, and out of view of the townspeople below. She followed the wall until found what she was looking for, a gap in the chinking between the logs. She had noticed these gaps before during Meeting, when the bright sunlight gleamed through them.

She peered into the dim interior.

"Is she gone?" Carlisle asked.

"Aye, back to it then."

She heard the rasp and shuffle of digging and then a hollow _thunk_ as the shovel struck something. "There it is," Carlisle said in satisfaction. Shoulders and backs bent and she heard grunts as they pulled up something that they dropped with a thud on the floorboards. After a moment, there was a sound like a cork being pulled from a tight hole.

"Hand me that snakeskin," Standish said.

The men all crouched around the object on the floor she could not see.

She heard the soft, dry hiss of powder being poured.

"That should do it," Standish said. "Put some lead shot into it, too."

"Do you think it will get the message across?" Carlisle asked. "Have any of them ever seen gunpowder before?"

"If they haven't, throw some onto a fire," Standish said to Tisquantum. "They'll get the message." Bella saw him tie up the bag. "Take that back to Sam, the chieftain."

"Samsuot," Tisquantum corrected.

Standish grunted. "Aye, him. Take it to Sam and say we will not be intimidated. If he wants to come with his bows and arrows, we'll be ready with guns and English steel."

Tisquantum hesitated, but nodded. He headed out of the meeting house, shutting the door behind him. Bella ducked back a few paces to ensure he wouldn't spot her as he walked down the path toward the palisade fence.

"I'll store the gunpowder at my house," Carlisle offered. "It's far enough away from town not to endanger you if aught should go amiss, but close enough that I could get it to you in a hurry, if needed."

"No, I'll store it at my house," Bradford said. "I will put it in the hen coop. My wife will not touch it, and a fire out there is unlikely."

"Let us pray we find we have no need of it after all." Carlisle began to shovel the dirt back into the hole. "My wife has told me three more of the Weymouth settlers have gone to live with the savages." He shook his head in disbelief.

"I do not understand it, either," Standish said. "Living like them ... Taking the savage squaws to wife. One of those who left was a man who had lived with them after the colony failed for the first time. He said after tasting the freedom of their life, he could not bear to live as an Englishman again."

"He has given himself over to the devil's ways entirely, then," Carlisle said with a sad sigh. "What is to be done?"

"I've sent orders they are all to return to Weymouth," Standish declared.

"How can we hope to convert the heathens if our own people are absconding to live as they do?" Bradford added. "We must look out for the souls of our brethren if they are so steeped in sin they cannot do it for themselves."

They stamped down the earth after Carlisle had put the last shovel full in place and re-set the planks over it.

" 'Tis a pity they seem incapable of making the colony thrive," Carlisle sighed. "Perhaps the new colonists will prove more industrious and God will bless them as he has blessed us."

"God is rich in his blessings for those who walk in His way," Bradford agreed. "And thus we are better set than many of the colonies here in the New World. A friend of mine forwarded a copy of a letter from an indentured servant in the Jamestown Colony. They are beset by starvation and disease, and naught but a few of the original colonists survive. He writes that they live on bread and water."

"Water?" Carlisle grimaced. "Everyone knows that water weakens a man. You need a good, strong beer to fatten and strengthen a man."

Bradford shook his head. " 'Tis all they have to keep body and soul together, and so they lap at it like dogs, according to what the letter said. And they are sore beset by the savages. The last attack - " His voice trailed off, and Bella saw all of the men nod, as if they were well familiar with what had happened during that incident, but it was too awful to be spoken aloud.

"That is what I'm trying to prevent," Standish said, and his tone was grim. "I will not allow them to think they can harry us in a similar fashion. I will keep this colony safe, no matter what methods I have to employ."

Carlisle clasped Standish's hand in his own and laid the other on Standish's shoulder. He and Bradford exchanged a few words as well before he put his shovel over his shoulder and exited the Meeting House.

Bella waited until Carlisle was headed down the path to his farm before she ran to catch up to him. "Carlisle!"

He turned and removed his hat, sweeping into a bow. "Greetings, daughter. Were you waiting for me all this time?"

Bella nodded. "I needed to speak with you about a matter of some import."

"Oh?" Carlisle squinted up at the blazing sun and set his hat back on his head to shield his eyes.

She laid it out bluntly. "Carlisle, I fear there has been a misunderstanding. The Wôpanâak do not want war. You have to explain this to Governor Bradford." She wished she could speak to the man herself, but she knew he would not take a woman's word for it. But if she could convince Carlisle of the truth, he could speak to Bradford and keep this situation from escalating needlessly.

Carlisle just stared at her.

"They want peace, just as we do, but they have been misled by ... by erroneous information." She wasn't going to accuse Tisquantum if she didn't have to. She did not know the man, and while Jacob might feel Tisquantum was exploiting the situation to his own advantage, Bella could not state his opinion as fact. The last thing she wanted was to cause more strife.

Carlisle's gaze was impassive. "How do you know this?"

Bella bit back a sigh of impatience. She wished she could simply grab his hand and show him, but his walls would block her, the walls that humans built in their minds when they grew old enough to begin to have secrets. "I have spoken with the man you call Jacob."

"Jacob?" Carlisle gave her a sharp look. "How did you happen to meet him?"

"That is not important right now - "

"Jacob is not ..." Carlisle searched for the word. "He is not the most reliable source. He fancies himself a prophet of some type. I know not what he means by it, but they say he has visions of himself as a Catholic priest."

Bella felt her breath leave her in a whoosh. "Jacob" was such a common name it had never occurred to her to think he might be the Father Jacob she had once known, the man who had so mercilessly persecuted her. Her soul had felt no spark of recognition from him. How could this be?

Could he really have repented so deeply of the sins of his previous life that he had been sent back again? But why would he be unrecognizable to her? Could his rebirth have been such a complete transformation?

Bella remembered she had once compared Father Jacob to a wolf in a trap she had encountered. The fear and pain of his mangled paw had turned the wolf vicious, but once the pain had been taken away, he had gentled. Had some pain in Father Jacob's life driven him to such cruelty and evil?

She could not judge; it was not her place. All she knew was he had been given a second chance, so there must be good in him, else he would still be in the Cold Place, where souls without love or compassion were sent until they had rid themselves of those evils and could be given another chance.

She realized in a sudden flash that she was never supposed to encounter him. He had been reborn far, far away from his previous life, in a New World, in another culture. Far from whatever it was that had twisted him with hate. It was only by an unusual set of circumstances that she had come here, that her family had come here. For a moment, she puzzled over that and wondered if it had some deeper meaning. It seemed too incredible a coincidence to be accidental, but the gods did not work that way, at least not in the selkies' faith.

Carlisle saw her shocked expression and took it as confirmation she understood not to trust Jacob. He patted her arm. "Best to stay away from the savages, daughter. They take advantage of the innocence and naïve nature of women. They have the cunning and duplicity of the devil himself."

She met his eyes. "Carlisle, I know in my heart he was sincere about wanting peace with us." That much, at least, she could be sure of. It was impossible to lie with the mind. It created blocking walls as the person sought to conceal the secret truth, and she would not have been able to see into him as clearly as she had.

Carlisle accepted it with a nod. "That may be so, but Jacob is not the chieftain. Sam is, and he answers to Massasoit. Jacob may desire peace, but what of those two and their intentions? Daughter, leave this to the men. Women's minds are not suited to these thoughts of alliances and strategies. Worry not. We will see to it that you are safe. Go on home now, and tend to your home and husband."

Bella ground her teeth. She could see now she wouldn't get anywhere with Carlisle. She gave him a short bow and headed back down the path toward the town, so lost in her own thoughts that she did not see the man on the path until she bumped into him. She looked up.

"_Edward_."

He was pale, and his hair was in even more disorder than usual, as though he had raked his hands through it repeatedly. It stuck up in rusty spikes all over his head. He put his hat back on and regarded her silently for a moment.

"What is wrong?" Her heart sped up. "The children - ?"

He shook his head. "No, everyone is safe and well. May we ... May we talk for a moment?"

She nodded and followed him from the path, her heart slamming against her ribs like a frightened bird trying to escape its cage. He led her through the woods, far into the sea of trees. All of the colonists were warned not to stray far from the palisade, but like most young men, Edward had to explore, and he knew this area of the forest well.

He led her to a fallen log and gestured for her to sit. Bella did.

Edward sat down beside her and turned to her. He opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it. He then reached into his pocket and held something out to her.

It was her portrait locket, opened to display the miniature inside. _Oh no ..._ She shouldn't have worn it once she found him again. She should have hidden it away.

She looked up at him and saw pain in his eyes, something that rent her own heart. She cursed herself for her foolishness. She had allowed her ridiculous sentimental attachment to an object of her past hurt the man who was her present, her future.

"I wanted to see what you would say about this," Edward said, his voice unsteady.

"I didn't want you to see this," Bella murmured. "Not yet." She bit the inside of her lip and wished with all her soul she could just tell him everything.

How many times would they have this conversation in the future, she wondered. Would she ever learn a way that was easier than simply allowing his mind to yield to the memories when it was ready? She hoped she would, because she knew this had to be a very unsettling time for him. And it would only get worse as every belief he had was challenged, his very identity shaken.

He glanced down at the locket again and closed it with a click, hiding it in the palm of his clenched hand. "But I did see it."

"Aye." At that moment, Bella would have given anything to take the hurt from him. But she didn't know how. This was something he had to work through on his own, to prepare his heart and mind for the truth. She scrambled for words, but none would come.

They sat in silence for a moment. Edward was the one to break it. "I must ask you a question, though I dread the answer to it: Did you marry me because I resemble your dead husband?"

"No," Bella said, and it wasn't a lie. She married him because he _was_ her husband, not because he simply looked like him.

Edward relaxed and let out a long, slow breath. "Why did you marry me?"

"I cant tell you yet. I promise I will, but not now." Edward did not notice the breeze that sealed her promise, rustling the undergrowth around them.

"I had a dream last night," Edward said. He looked up at the leafy canopy over their heads and she saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. "I led a woman on horseback as she made a speech to her troops. And you were there, wearing a clabbered-together suit of armor."

"Tilbury," Bella whispered.

His eyes widened and his face went even paler. "Tilbury. That was it. God in heaven, Bella ... What is _happening_ to me?"

"What is meant to happen." Bella put her hand over Edward's. Rough from work with small scars and ragged cuticles, it was far from the hand of the Duke she had once wed. But the same man resided within. "I know you are fearful right now."

He let out a humorless laugh. "Fearful, confused, saddened, alarmed ... There are many words I could use."

"If you believe nothing else, please believe me when I tell you that you have no reason to fear. I will not let anything take away what's standing in front of me. Every breath - every hour - has come to this. One step closer."

"It feels like I'm stepping closer to a ledge," he said, and gave her a crooked smile.

"If you step off, I will be there to catch you." Bella reached out and cupped his cheek. "Trust me, Edward. Please, trust me."

"I want to. But I know there is much you are keeping from me."

"Nothing to your detriment," she said. She stroked her thumb over his cheekbone and gazed into those emerald green eyes.

He closed them for a moment and then turned his head to press a kiss into her palm. She drew him closer and kissed him softly. She felt him gasp and her lips opened as he deepened the kiss, his arms slipping around her waist to draw her body closer to his own. He kissed her with hunger, with an edge of desperation, as if there was something he could not say with words, but his lips, his gasps as he trailed them over her face and throat, could voice his need.

He pulled her even closer, off the log up onto his lap, and Bella kicked her skirts out of the way to lock her legs around his waist. His hands slipped up over her back to the nape of her neck and she felt him slip his fingers below her cap. The pins gave way and the cap fell off as her hair spilled free of its knot. He gave a fragmented groan as he buried his hands in her hair, holding her head in place as he kissed her, her own lips and tongue barely able to keep up with his almost-frantic passion.

One hand came down to skim up her thigh and Bella whimpered softly. He kissed down her throat and nipped the spot where her neck joined with her shoulder and she arched against him as a bolt of heat surged through her. He fumbled with layers of fabric, trying to push her skirts aside. They both let out a soft cry as they finally achieved what they wanted, and went still for a long moment.

Edward looked into her eyes. "Bella," he whispered.

"Edward." The word that was music and magic on her lips. The song of her heart and soul.

Their movements were now slow and gentle. Their gasps mingled between their lips. Reverence was in his touch and adoration in hers.

_I love you_, her soul said to his.

Could he hear it?

~.~

* * *

At home again, Bella wrapped the locket in a handkerchief and tucked it into a corner of her trunk. Edward made no comment when he saw her do it. It was for the best, because every time he saw it, he would be reminded of that uncanny resemblance.

He believed her when she said it wasn't the reason she'd married him. Whatever she was hiding, it wasn't that. Her eyes had held no deceit when she answered him.

He watched her feed dinner to Rose, and a sharp pang of longing went through his heart. What would it be like to have a child of his own? He envisioned a little girl with brown curls or a boy with his own rusty hair. But two children in the house was probably all they could handle at the moment. He supposed he could foster out Emmett, but he rejected the idea almost before it was fully formed in his mind. He loved his little brother and didn't want to see him go. And Emmett was becoming very attached to little Rose. It seemed cruel to separate them.

He knew without asking Bella would never give up Rose. She said the little girl needed a great deal of love and gentle care. Rose was - terrible pun it might be - _blossoming_ under Bella's care. She was no longer the scared, scrawny waif she had been only a short time ago. Her blonde hair gleamed like polished gold and her blue eyes were bright. She was starting to put on a little weight, and that terrible sunken look of her cheeks had dissipated. She had even smiled once at Edward, though she had yet to speak to anyone but Emmett or Bella.

He didn't read that evening. He watched his family.

His family. His wife, his children. His sister who would soon be starting a family of her own. The crackle of the fire and Emmett's laughter as he and Alice played Cat's Cradle, Emmett clumsily plucking at the yarn and making a tangled mess of it. Bella's smile as she lit the candles and closed the shutters as the sun went down.

It reminded him of the life he'd had as a child in Holland, when his mother was still alive, the ideal of domestic perfection he had always hoped to build when he had a wife of his own. Of course, he had always imagined it decades in the future, and had never thought he would acquire a family almost instantly upon marrying, but they always said the Lord worked in mysterious ways. Edward been given everything he wanted, if not quite in the way he had imagined.

He could have destroyed that today, if he hadn't heeded Esme's advice. If he had stormed in shouting as his hurt feelings had wanted, he could have destroyed this happiness they were building. This accord.

_Let it build_, he thought. And let these strange dreams and visions lead him where they might. His heart sped up a little at the thought. As he had told Bella this afternoon, it felt like he was standing at the edge of a cliff. But as he gazed at his wife, sewing a poppet for Rose, he knew that he truly did trust her to catch him as she'd promised.

And after the fire had burned down to red coals, Bella and Edward joined hands and headed up the steps to their bedroom. They removed each layer of clothing as though stripping away artifice, barriers, doubts. Their limbs tangled together, their flesh as one, Edward knew her that kisses, her gasps, her sighs - all of them were immutable truths. She looked into his eyes, into his soul, and it was _Edward_ she held in her arms, not a memory.

"Catch me," he whispered.

And she smiled.

* * *

**Notes**:

- "Samsuot" is Pecksuot, who was a Massachusett warrior and a leader of an opposition group.

- Lyrics from _A Thousand Years,_ by Christina Judith Perri and David Hodges_. _© 2011 WMG

- A "poppet" is a doll made of rags. They were sometimes looked upon in askance in early America. Some children had them, but they could also be seen as objects of _maleficium._


End file.
